


late july

by thanks_tacos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abused Dean Winchester, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Angst, Bookstore Owner Castiel, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mute Dean Winchester, Omega Dean, Past Abuse, Slow Burn, not graphic at all it's barely there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 06:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26468824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanks_tacos/pseuds/thanks_tacos
Summary: 'I would like to take in your most abused one,' Castiel says, looking at the rows of doors in the yellow corridor. 'Give him a good home.'After his accident, Castiel needs someone to help him around the small brick house he lives in and the bookstore he owns. So, he adopts Dean; an omega who barely survived being dumped in a ditch and left for dead. Dean doesn't talk, but that's fine; they learn to live together in the quaint, rainy city surrounded by a green forest. Castiel just wants to give Dean a peaceful life he deserves, and maybe also - become his mate?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 282
Kudos: 1185
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

'I would like to take in your most abused one,' Castiel says, looking at the rows of doors in the yellow corridor. 'Give him a good home.'

'Are you prepared for what it might entail?' the handler asks. She's a woman in her fifties, weary-faced. Castiel imagines she sees enough human cruelty and broken omegas to earn it. 'All of these omegas have been abused to an extent, but in extreme cases, they can become dangerous. They can lash out or become unresponsive or refuse to follow orders.'

'Yes, I've read books,' Castiel tells her eagerly. 'And I completed an online course about taking care of experienced omegas. I can e-mail you the certificate.'

'Nah, it's fine,' she says, and looks at the doors, considering. 'You're looking for a male?'

'Yes, around my age, ideally,' Castiel replies. 'But I'm flexible. I only need him to be able to perform everyday tasks, help out around the apartment and the bookstore. Nothing taxing.'

'Yeah,' the woman nods. 'Well, there's Dean.'

'Dean,' Castiel repeats, tasting the name. Could that really be his mate, one day? If they get along well enough? He's trying not to show it, but he longs to not be lonely anymore, he longs for company.

'Someone found him in a ditch by the side of the road, left for dead,' the woman explains. 'He barely pulled through. Almost no lasting damage, though. Looks like he's been through a lot of alphas. He doesn't talk, but there's nothing preventing him from it. We think he's just scared to death.'

'Oh,' Castiel mulls it over. That really sounds like a lot of baggage for someone to carry, but he doesn't let that deter him. 'Tell me more?'

'He's over thirty, that's for sure. Very well behaved, we know he's been corrected and trained, he responds to all commands without hesitation. Do you care about his looks?'

'I don't,' Castiel shakes his head, images of burned, disfigured people coming to mind, unbidden. 'Why?'

'Well, most people come here looking for a mate, not just a house slave,' the handler replies. 'Dean's got a lot of scars, and his right arm doesn't always work the way it should. It didn't work at all after we found him, but the nurses at the hospital and our volunteers forced him to undergo some PT. You might need to get him to perform some exercises if it gets bad.'

'Of course,' Castiel nods. This isn't terrible, so far.

'Our volunteers try to include him in omega activities,' the woman continues. 'You know, we have embroidery, knitting, a small garden to tend to in the back, art, pottery class. He refuses to join, but he likes going outside. He'll just sit on the grass and watch it all happen.'

'He sounds like a very good candidate,' Castiel ventures carefully. 'He's obedient, quiet and trained. Why is he still here?'

'Well, you might see when you meet him. He's always scared and he can get aggressive if he's  _ too  _ scared. Alphas like their omegas docile. Sometimes things trouble him but he won't communicate. We only found out he had a lung infection two weeks into it, when he started hacking up blood.'

'Jesus,' that does shake Castiel up, a bit. He'd be at a disadvantage from the start, with his injured leg. Dean could easily hurt him in fear. 'Has he seriously hurt anyone?'

'He wasn't given a chance,' the woman replies. 'Sometimes he snarls at people. There was one incident, he tried to attack an alpha that said something to him, but our guard entered just in time. Dean's been with us for over a year now, and he's wasting away. It's not good for omegas to be without alphas for too long, and this boy wants a home, trust me. Ten alphas have seen him so far, and none decided to take him. Frankly, I don't know how many more rejections he can take, and they're not exactly being subtle about it. He doesn't eat and drink for days after.'

Castiel worries his lip between his teeth. This is a big decision, and a big commitment. He was aware that by deciding to adopt an abused omega, he was risking making life harder for himself, instead of easier. He just hoped that would be the initial phase. It's naive to think he's going to adopt the love of his life, but his tired heart still, stubbornly, hopes.

'I don't care about his issues,' Castiel says slowly. 'We'll work them out. I don't even mind him not telling me things, I'll keep an eye on him. I'm only worried about him hurting me.'

'The risk is there,' the handler sighs. 'I've worked here my entire life, and I know that inside, he's just eager to please like all omegas. He just wants a loving home. But someone fucked him up badly, and he doesn't even mean to attack, he's just so scared. I don't think he would ever seriously hurt you, other than push you away or punch you, at the very worst. Omegas are aware of the consequences of hurting alphas.'

Yes, Castiel's aware of that too. It doesn't apply to punching, at least, but if an omega causes serious damage to an alpha, he loses a limb. The law is so archaic, but it's still not changed, despite the recent protests of omega rights activists. The world can be such an old, senseless place.

Which only makes him want to adopt omegas like Dean. He has his small house, and his secure job. He has the need for company and a set of helping hands, and someone who'll make him tea at the end of the day, when his leg and sore muscles are too much to bear.

It was his family who gifted him the money for the omega. Gabriel kept finding him asleep on the couch, plates overflowing in the sink, food rotting in the fridge. His mother visited him at the store only to find him in the back, throwing up from pain, because he forgot to keep track of his medication.

And because he still dreams of the accident.

'I would like to see Dean,' he decides. 'I promise I will not tell him anything mean. Do you think I should behave a specific way, not to frighten him?'

The woman snorts.

'You're an alpha,' she says, amused. 'You're already frightening. Just be yourself. See if you get along. I'll be right outside, watching, in case something happens.'

'Yes, of course,' Castiel agrees, only to realize she means his safety, not Dean's. She leads him to the last door in the corridor. It's all very modern, the doors are made out of smooth metal, painted bright yellow like the rest of the place, and their corners are rounded.There's a small window in the door, covered by a metal sheet, and the handler slides it, now, to the side. Castiel doesn't peek inside, but she opens the door first, and tells the omega - Dean - that he's about to get a visitor.

'Be good,' she warns him, and leaves.

Castiel takes a breath and steps inside. The room is very small, narrow. There's a window on the far wall, with metallic bars on the outside; a toilet and a sink in the corner; a low cot with a single folded blanket and a beat-up nightstand. The room is still modern, with the curved angles and brightly colored, but it looks more like prison than anything else.

Castiel can't imagine living here for over a year. Locked in, with barred windows, life passing him by. There's nothing indicating this is a lived-in space; no personal belongings.

Dean stands ramrod straight, his back to the window. Castiel wonders if he's been looking out, watching the outside world, before the handler knocked on the door. He's surprisingly tall for an omega, but he seems underweight. His hands are clasped behind his back, eyes on the floor; there's no hiding the fact that he's shaking, but his chin is tilted up. He looks proud, challenging, even.

Castiel can't see his body under the flannel and sweatpants he's wearing, but he looks handsome, even strikingly so.

'Hello, Dean,' he says, and clears his throat. He hopes he sounds nice. 'I'm interested in adopting you.'

The omega doesn't react.

'Could you please look at me?'

He does. His eyes are dead, and hopeless, and green. Castiel knows he expects to be rejected. There's an ugly scar marring the side of his face; a jagged cut, from below his ear, across the side of his neck, ending under his cheekbone. Castiel can see that a chunk of his left ear is actually missing.

'I know you don't talk,' Castiel continues. 'My name is Castiel Novak. I live in a very small city, called Maudeck. I own a one-story house, and a bookstore. I've been in a car accident quite recently, and I need someone to help me manage everyday life. That would include cleaning, cooking, taking care of the store, helping out some customers, if needs must.'

There might be a flicker of surprise on Dean's face. Or maybe Castiel's imagined it. He moves to sit down on Dean's cot, and he's shocked to have the omega snarl at him.

He pauses. Dean doesn't move from his position, but his face is twisted in anger. There's too much fear and helplessness under it for it to be convincing.

'Oh,' Castiel says. 'You don't want me sitting on your bed. You're right, it's your space. That was rude of me.'

He sinks to the floor, instead. His leg already bothers him from walking so much, and this isn't the most ideal sitting position, but it's worth it when he sees the astonishment on Dean's face.

No alphas did that before, apparently.

'I would provide you with a small place to yourself,' Castiel continues. 'My house is cramped, but I have a separate bed ready for you, and a dresser. There's a nice window with a windowsill you can sit on, overlooking a forest. If you look hard enough, you can glimpse a lake.'

Dean's watching him curiously, now. The separate bed bit seemed to dim something in his eyes; Castiel wonders why. He can't imagine it would've been better if he told Dean they were to sleep together.

'My work is quaint and peaceful. I think you might benefit from a little peace,' Castiel adds. 'If you like books, well, you'll have more than enough. Can you cook?'

Dean hesitates for a moment, and nods.

'What about cleaning?'

Dean nods faster, now, twice.

'That should work just fine for me, then,' Castiel says with a smile. 'Would you like to go home with me?'

There's a flash of heartwrenching hope on Dean's face, but then, it shuts down. He tugs his shirt off, revealing a bony chest, marred with scars. Then, he takes off his pants, and stands naked before Castiel, who doesn't know what to make of it.

It's not a proposition. Dean's not aroused - he's shaking, and looks like he's fighting to keep his hands by his sides. It's a... show. Dean's showing his entire self, and asking to be accepted, so that Castiel won't decide to return him later. Judging by the look on Dean's face, the dark red shade of his cheeks, this is usually the part where he gets rejected.

Castiel gets up and picks up his shirt, and hands it to him.

'I'm really sorry to see you've been hurt,' he says. 'But I'm already aware of it. I'll have to look up the exercises for your hand. We could exercise together. I require some physical therapy for my leg.'

Dean's eyes flick to his, assessing,  _ hoping _ .

'Would you like to sit shotgun on the way home?' Castiel keeps talking. 'It's a few hours from here. You may want to lie down in the backseat, get some sleep.'

Dean puts on his shirt, slowly. He lifts his trembling hand and pats his chest once, and then, sheepishly, points at Castiel.

'Yes, I'm adopting you,' the alpha confirms, smiling.

Dean nods in acceptance, and ducks his head. Castiel thinks he's overwhelmed. He dresses quickly, and then clasps his hands behind his back. He looks the way he did when Castiel first came in here.

'Alright, well, do you have any belongings you'd like to take with you?'

Dean tenses, but shakes his head.

'It's alright if you do,' Castiel insists, but Dean shakes his head, again. Castiel casts a glance around the room, and goes to open the nightstand's drawer. There's a roll of toilet paper, and a bar of soap, and a towel. Still damp, from the morning shower somewhere in the building, probably. Further away, there's an old toothbrush. Necessities, not belongings.

'We're leaving, then?' Castiel asks. The omega seems like he does want to take something with him, but he's scared to do it. He just nods. Fine. Castiel puts on a gentle smile, and opens the door.

Dean follows, and they meet the handler in the corridor. She seems impressed, and it fuels Castiel's certainty that this is the right decision. He seeks Dean's hand; he flinches away, surprised, so surprised, in fact, that he forgets to keep his head lowered. His back hits the opposite door and he stares at Castiel for a couple of seconds, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

'It's fine,' Castiel tells him, not making a big deal out of it. It's to be expected. 'I just wish to hold your hand.'

He does it again, slowly, his movements transparent and obvious. He grabs Dean's unresisting hand and squeezes it, and starts walking, tugging Dean forward. The omega follows, dazedly, and after a moment, his fingers lace with Castiel's more firmly.

They fill out the papers, which doesn't take a lot of time. Castiel pays the fee - the price - for Dean, and the omega looks at the money with wide eyes. Then, the handler presents them with collars.

'Which one do you like?' Castiel asks. 'Make sure it's comfortable.'

He has a feeling Dean's giving him a wide berth like he's crazy, but after a moment's consideration, the omega points at a humble collar, brown and fairly thin. Castiel gets it for him and then fastens it around his neck, Dean's body stiff under his hands. When it's done, Dean traces the collar with his fingers when he thinks Castiel can't see.

'If you'll want to return him,' the handler says. 'Please do bring him back here. We won't judge.'

  
  
  
  
  


Castiel quickly learns that Dean has three different facial expressions: pure fear, dazed wonder and skeptical eyebrow.

Pure fear is what he wears most of the time. As they leave the adoption center, as someone walks past him and he trips on his feet, trying to get away, only to bump into Castiel and cower away from him, as well. As he tries to kneel on the floor mat under the seat, until Castiel tells him he can ride in the car like an actual passenger; as the car starts and he makes his second sound - a frightened whimper - and grabs at the headrest and hides his face in it.

They cover a good distance that way; Dean curled up on the seat, eyes scrunched closed, hugging the headrest. He's breathing so loudly, Castiel's scared he'll hyperventilate. He assumes it's because of Dean's past experiences rather than lack thereof. It doesn't seem like it's his first time in a car, based on how eagerly he tried to sit in the footwell.

Castiel wonders if it could have something to do with the way Dean was found in a ditch. Did someone throw him out of a speeding car? Or an immobile car, the pace is not the point. Either way, Castiel's read about this, he's prepared.

_ Abused omegas often display fear because of their previous experiences. If you know what it's about, reassure them; if you don't, ignore it until they learn they're not in danger. _

It's hard to ignore his omega, curled into a ball and shaking with fear, though. Feels wrong to do so, even. So Castiel talks, he tells Dean silly stories from work, tells him about different customers, their orders, their complaints. He tells him about a bakery across the street, and how most people know each other in their little town.

When they stop for gas, Dean finally uncurls. All his muscles are pulled taut; Castiel thinks it must be exhausting. He glances at the alpha, hesitates, and drops his eyes again, squirming in the seat. He's probably concerned about staying in the car.

'I'll be right back,' Castiel reassures him, and Dean nods. The alpha doesn't lock the door; Dean, like all omegas, has a tracking chip, so the risk of him trying to escape is very low. Castiel fills up the tank, pays at the counter and comes back with two sodas, only to find the car empty.

He panics for a total of ten seconds, and then makes sure Dean's not hiding in the backseat or even the trunk. There are security cameras - he could see which way Dean went. But before he can do that, he jogs to the end of the building and looks around. It's impossible for Dean to get far in such a short time. Maybe someone kidnapped him? Heart hammering in Castiel's chest, he whips around only to find Dean standing at the tree line behind the station, with his back to Castiel, peeing.

Castiel sags in relief. That's what all the squirming was about. Before he can understand what he's doing, his legs lead him back to the gas station. He walks inside and picks some food, some sandwiches - surely Dean's hungry, and he's obviously not going to communicate. He watches the exterior through the window; to his relief, he sees the omega sprint back to the car and sit down in the passenger seat, looking around warily. When he doesn't spot Castiel, he seems to relax.

When the alpha comes back to the car, he smiles at Dean.

'I think we'll need a way to talk,' he says. 'Something simple.'

Dean doesn't reply, of course; he just eyes Castiel cautiously.

'How about this-' the alpha raises his hand, and Dean flinches away, but Castiel just continues, calmly. 'Cross your second finger with your third finger if you're hungry. Third with fourth if you're thirsty, and fourth with your pinkie if you need to use the toilet. Can you do that for me?'

Dean watches him for a moment, and then nods.

'Good,' Castiel smiles. 'Here. A sandwich and a soda for you.'

Dean doesn't take it though. He stares at it like it's about to explode.

'You can take it. You don't have to eat it right now.'

The omega takes it, finally, and puts it on his lap. Then, with obvious reluctance, he puts his hand on Castiel's crotch, glancing up for a second, meeting his eyes in what looks like a question.  _ Like a plea _ , Castiel thinks as he plucks Dean's hand away.

'No,' he says. 'We're not doing that.'

Dean watches him for a moment, and then sits back.

'You could try looking out of the window,' Castiel tells him, starting the car. 'There's still a long way to go, and the countryside gets picturesque. I'll go slow, if the speed is what's worrying you.'

Dean doesn't react to that, but he does stay in the seat, not curling up like before. Castiel fastens his seat belt and pulls out onto the main road.

The omega's eyes stay glued to the window. Castiel worries that perhaps he took his suggestion for an order, but it's still an improvement over Dean smashing his face into the headrest. He's not shaking anymore, too. At some point, about an hour into the drive, he unwraps his sandwich, flinching and tensing when the paper rustles, but Castiel just asks him to unwrap his, and they eat together. As expected, it puts the omega at ease, a little.

When they slowly enter the wooded area, driving down old asphalt lanes cutting straight through the forest, pure fear gives way to dazed wonder. Castiel sees it on Dean's face, clear as day; his eyes light up and he leans forward to see the heavy branches, weighed down by the giant amount of leaves, hanging over the roof of their car. In late July, everything's flourishing. It's starting to get damp; it's always damp here, but Castiel likes it, and he feels like he's driving into some other, wild country everytime he goes back home. Like the trees welcome him, and the branches part before him. He thinks Dean can feel that too, the ancient, earth-scented magic of this place.

A red sedan passes them by, narrowly avoiding a collision on the one-lane road, and the special feeling is slightly ruined, but Dean still looks entranced.

The villages they drive through are equally atypical; wooden houses, sheds and big barns, everything moss-covered and run-down. Small locally-owned shops and people selling fruit and vegetables and mushrooms by the road, frequent signs, "Welcome to Greenwood", "Welcome to Elmwood", each village consisting of about fifty habitants. Castiel knows it's impressive; it's like going back in time, going to the very bowels of the Earth, people nestling between the tree roots and down the side of the mountain, coexisting with nature. It's like being bathed in green, the air is fresher, fuller, here, the always present scents of life and decay everywhere one goes.

Dean's eyes follow a strange hut; the tiles on the roof make up a folklore pattern. There's a broken swing and a rocking horse in the backyard, grass and weeds overgrown, the picket fence mouldy. There's a donkey tied to a post next to another house and, as they enter the woods again, an old, stone well by the side of the road, and an old figure of Mother Mary with her hands outstretched, as if she's reaching out to Castiel and his omega, headed down this mystical, forgotten path. The halo around her head is bleak, accentuated with tiny stars, the gold paint gone because of the rain and the wind and time, but there are still lit candles on a shielded shelf underneath her feet.

The sight always tells Castiel that he's close to home, but he realizes that to an outsider - Dean - the villages and the eerie figures and dilapidated barns may look - not very comforting. Still, the omega drinks everything in with his eyes wide open. Castiel cracks the window and the smell of the forest hits them like a tidal wave, stifling and overwhelming.

'My town, Maudeck, is bigger than the places we've just passed through,' he explains. 'It's still not big, but we do have a shopping center and a K-mart, so it's not a complete desolation.' He chuckles, and Dean doesn't reply, but Castiel knows he listens to him. 'We do have a lot of old buildings, but also young families, and normal streets and streetlights. It's not as untamed as out here.'

It takes a while, but finally, they reach the top of the mountain, with a beautiful view of the valley. The road winds down, again, but there are no steep declines; it's peaceful, through the fields of golden corn, with a tree or two towering above them, the wiry branches reaching out into the sky like fingers. There are cows there too, and Dean stares with visible delight. Perhaps Castiel could get Garth to show Dean around the stables, if he enjoys animals.

Suddenly, he's happy about the decision to buy Dean. There was excitement before, too, but an equal amount of fear; now, he's just happy. He has someone to talk to, even if that someone doesn't reply. He's not alone.

There's the last part of the drive, through the forest again, down the hill, and it feels like disappearing in a lush, bottle-green tunnel of trees and leaves, only to emerge on a normal, contemporary road. Many of the houses are still wedged into the side of the mountain; wild, thick roots shoot out from the hill and wrap around the brick walls, dirt spills in huge chunks from the face of the rock, pooling in the backyards, turning into mud when it rains, and it almost always rains in Maudeck. But there are also newly made sidewalks and a half-finished bike lane, an odd mix of modernity meeting nature. They drive to the tiny city center. There's a square with a statue and a fountain and a lone bench; Castiel's never seen anyone sitting there. Antique, short apartment blocks surround the square, and most of the local shops on the ground level are still open. Castiel drives by his bookstore, and he enthusiastically points to it, wanting to show Dean.

The omega obediently gazes at it; it's quite unusual, Castiel supposes, to a newcomer. It's a low, brick building with small, pointed towers and large, stained glass windows. It always reminds Castiel of a not-quite-finished cathedral; too small, but gothic enough. It's very cozy inside. He filled the space with bookshelves and reading sofas, and bean bags. The walls were painted yellow. He fought to keep the space open but there were more and more books and eventually, it turned as cramped as his own house, but he liked to think it was pleasant.

He hopes Dean will like it.

The bookstore's away from the city center, but still in town. Castiel's house is even further away, on what could be called the outskirts; one of many narrow, brick houses, seventh in a row. A lucky number, Gabriel used to say.

They arrive, and Castiel gets out. Dean follows before he can circle the car and open the door for him. He stares at the house, and then looks around, seemingly small and hunched in on himself. Castiel knows that seeing your new home must be frightening, but to add to it, Dean's an omega, and Castiel keeps reminding himself that he expects the worst.

He leads Dean into the house, opening the creaky gate and walking across the small, overgrown yard. He tried to plant petunias, but instead, different weeds and flowers adorned the sides of the steep staircase, resistant to trimming, and thriving in the rain.

Castiel's leg starts to really bother him by the time he enters the house. It's warm inside, but as always, a little humid in a suffocating way. He goes to the kitchen on the right and opens the window. Dean follows him, uncertainly.

'Welcome home,' Castiel smiles, a bit nervously, and gestures to the kitchen. 'This is where I attempt to cook. I know it's cluttered, I don't use it much, I've sort of - retreated upstairs, since the accident.'

All of his cutlery and plates and mugs are mismatched, and the place hasn't been clean in a while, and it embarrasses him now. He opens the fridge, covered in a multitude of funny magnets he collected from the family-sized yoghurt packages.

'I have bought food before I left,' he says. 'So there's a lot to work with.'

Dean nods, eyes wandering around the kitchen.

'Here,' Castiel searches for a notebook on the table, under the mess of magazines and books and the unfinished bookstore catalogue, and plastic bags and, ashamedly, a stray pair of socks. He hasn't used the table in forever. 'I know you don't talk, so write anything you want to tell me.'

He hands Dean the notebook and a pen, but the omega takes a step back. Something on his face shuts down.

Castiel frowns.

'You don't speak, and we need a way to communicate,' he insists. Dean takes a breath, and shakes his head. He wraps his arms around himself.

Faced with pure fear - again - Castiel relents. He puts the notebook back on the table. He thinks this runs deeper than the refusal to speak. Perhaps it's not shock that's making Dean mute - perhaps someone forbade him from forming thoughts, asking questions, having opinions. Perhaps writing down anything is a huge risk for Dean, more opportunities to get punished.

'Fine,' Castiel says. 'It's here if you ever need it.'

Dean stares at him, wound tight like he's waiting for a beating.

'Let's go upstairs,' Castiel moves past him, and goes down the corridor. There's a living room on the left, full of boxes of books that he was supposed to both unpack and sell, but never did. Ever since the accident, he's been sleeping and living upstairs. Dean follows him up the stairs, keeping his distance.

There's a bathroom at the far end. The rest of it is a bedroom, of sorts - Castiel's large king-sized bed, wardrobe and dresser. Clothes on the floor. Castiel pushes the shame down and tries not to think about the mess; it didn't bother him before, but it does now, when he sees everything through Dean's eyes. There's a wall separating his bedroom from a tiny room he made up for Dean; he goes through the door now, and shows Dean inside. There's the large windowsill under a large window, as promised. Barely anything fits in the room except for Dean's queen bed, and a small dresser, but there's a carpet on the floor where they both stand, and it's clean and uncluttered.

'This is your room,' Castiel tells him. 'I'm afraid you can only get here through mine, this space used to be a big utility closet.' He opens the window here, too, letting in a stream of fresh air. 'See? There's the lake, to the right, you can glimpse it above the trees.'

Dean leans forward, still warily. Castiel doesn't know if he sees it; nothing shows on his face. Instead, he runs his hand across the fluffy duvet Castiel put on his bed. It gets cold here at night.

He lifts his hand to his chest, hesitantly, and then points to the bed.

'Yes, you sleep here,' Castiel tells him with a smile. 'I hope it'll be comfortable. And there are blankets for the nest, in the chest at the foot of the bed, if you want to make one.'

Dazed wonder returns when Dean kneels next to the bed and opens the chest to reveal several folded blankets. They're all new, Castiel purchased them before he went to get Dean.

The omega looks up at him and seems to want to say something, but doesn't know how. Eventually, he reaches out to Castiel, and tries to unbutton his pants.

'No,' Castiel repeats, more sternly this time. Dean looks frustrated and helpless. Castiel knows omegas often offer sexual favors, either because they're perpetually aroused or because they've been taught it's what's expected of them. But he has to let Dean know this isn't how it works with him. 'I didn't buy you for this. You are rather beautiful, but-'

This is the first time the skeptical eyebrow makes an appearance. It's the most subtle of Dean's facial expressions; just a minimal raise of his eyebrow, the slightest hint of a grimace.  _ Are you serious? _

'I  _ am  _ serious,' Castiel smiles, widely, now. 'I think you're handsome, Dean, but I don't want to do it like this. I'm open to trying things in the future, but let's get to know each other first. I don't want you to do it because you feel obliged.'

Dean watches him - surprised, taken aback, Castiel doesn't know. But finally, he nods, and gets up.

  
  
  
  
  


Castiel has to lend Dean a T-shirt and boxers. They're too big on him, but he didn't think to go to the shop and buy him clothes; he didn't know his size, anyway, and he expected the omega to bring some belongings with him when he moved in.

Either way, perhaps it's a blessing, because Dean looks cute in his clothes. Castiel likes the look, he likes it  _ a lot. _

His leg hurts too much to go downstairs and eat dinner, so he asks Dean to cook it and bring it upstairs. The omega scurries to the kitchen, looking content and relieved to be left to his own devices, and Castiel spends the evening putting heating pads on his elevated leg and texting his friends and family with news of his mate.

Dean serves him dinner with shaking hands, and it's the most balanced meal Castiel's had in a long time. Apparently, Dean expects to be hand-fed, like many omegas, because he kneels next to Castiel, next to his big bed.

It feels... weird, but Castiel obliges and feeds him a carrot, some meat, some potatoes. He tries to divide the helping in two, but he tells Dean to prepare another plate for himself, next time. Dean's mouth wraps around his fingers, but it's not lustful. He seems tired, exhausted, even, chewing the offered food with his eyes on the floor.

Later, Castiel hears him wash the dishes and move around in the kitchen. When he comes up, he stops next to the bed and just stands there, so Castiel throws away the pad and asks Dean to help him to the bathroom. The driving had done a number on him. His leg spasms and twitches and burns, but he strips and takes a shower anyway. Dean stands by the door, waiting for him, awkwardly. Castiel swears his curious eyes glance at his naked body, but he doesn't mind. He's seen Dean naked, too.

When he comes out of the shower and puts on a robe, Dean raises a hand, looking spooked.

'What is it, Dean?' Castiel asks, hoping to sound warm and comforting. Dean raises the hand again, pointedly, and Castiel finally notices that his fourth and fifth fingers are crossed.

'Oh!' he exclaims. 'That was for the toilet, yes? Please feel free to go anytime, you don't have to ask me while we're home. I'll leave you to it.'

He hobbles to the bedroom. Gabriel replies with a string of excited emojis, some of which Castiel doesn't understand.

Dean makes a soft sound from the doorway. Castiel didn't hear him come back in.

'You can go to sleep now,' he says, and smiles. 'I'll wake you up in the morning when it's time for breakfast.'

Dean nods and disappears in his small bedroom. The door shuts quietly, but the walls are thin, and Castiel hears him settling on the bed. It's hard to fall asleep with his new omega so close, yet so far. If only Dean talked, many things would be clearer.

Maybe one day, they'll share this bed, he daydreams. Dean is definitely good looking, and Castiel can’t stop thinking about him on his knees like before, except willingly. But as soon as that thought comes, it feels wrong, he feels perverted. The loneliness has reset his brain, reduced him to a set of primal urges. He should try harder to be more respectful of Dean. He's an omega and there's always going to be an undercurrent of sexual tension between them, but he didn't indicate he wanted to take things further.

_ It's the first day! _ Castiel thinks, frustrated.  _ It's just the first day, stop it! _

He buries his head in the pillow, angry and annoyed at himself. If Dean won't want to be his mate, that's fine too. They can just be friends. His objective is to give Dean a happy new home, to help him heal, and get his own life under control in the meantime.

  
  
  
  
  


In the middle of the night, he hears loud gasps, like sobs.

He opens his eyes and flicks the night lamp on. For a few seconds, he thinks it's some animal that got inside the house and now can't find its way out. Then he remembers Dean.

Castiel gets up and limps to the other room, his leg still pulsing in pain. He knocks softly, and the sound cuts off.

'Dean?' he asks, his voice hushed and raspy. He pushes open the door, because there won't be any reply. Dean sits on the bed, hugging his knees to his chest, and he's pale and terrified. The blankets lie in the open chest, untouched; everything looks sterile, save for the pillow and duvet, bunched up.

'Does something hurt?' Castiel asks, sitting down next to Dean. The omega flinches away and protects his head with his arms.

'You're okay,' Castiel reminds him. 'Everything's fine.'

He notices that the night lamp is still on.

'Are you scared of the dark?' he ventures. Dean's chest is heaving. 'That's okay. I know it must be scary, sleeping in a new house, right?'

Dean slowly uncurls to peek at him.

'It's fine,' Castiel smiles at him. 'Come on, lie down.'

That seems to calm Dean down instantly, but not comfort him. He lowers his arms and puts his hands on his hips. Castiel frowns, puzzled, but then Dean slides down his pants and attempts to lie down.

'Oh- no,' Castiel grabs the pants and tugs them back up, ignoring Dean's jumpiness. 'That's not what I meant. Please lie down, under the covers.'

The fear is back, but Dean does it, glancing at him surreptitiously. Castiel covers him with the duvet, tucks him in so that he's all warm, and resists the temptation to run a hand through his hair.

'I have nightmares too, sometimes,' he reveals. 'Since the accident. It was my mistake. I didn't look at the road for just a moment, and, well - the next thing I knew, I was suspended between the trees. The car hung there for a good while, and I was trapped,' he chuckles mirthlessly. 'I thought I would lose my life, and later, my leg. Well, anyway,' Dean's staring at him. 'I am glad to have you here. And I know just the way to put you to sleep.'

He gets up and goes to fetch something, and his words didn't console Dean judging by how Castiel sees him crane his head to get a look out of the room, high-strung and scared. Maybe he thinks Castiel will force him to go to sleep, drug him, or threaten him. Well, he'll find out that's not the case.

Castiel comes back to the room with a chair and a book. Dean's green eyes are huge and petrified, but now also confused.

'I read when I can't sleep,' Castiel says, holding up the book. 'I think you might like this one. It's one of my all time favourites. It's about pirates and adventures, and might put your mind at ease. Hopefully you'll dream of the sea.'

Castiel doesn't give Dean time to react - he probably won't anyway. Besides, he's the one in charge, and if he wants to read Dean a bedtime story, he will. He feels silly, at first, his quiet voice in the even more silent house, with the wind howling outside and the rain pattering on the window. It feels intimate, it feels like he and Dean are the only people in the world, encased in the circle of yellow light cast by the night lamp.

'The Old Sea-dog at the Admiral Benbow,' he reads, as always amused by the note to the "hesitating purchaser", left by Stevenson. Did he ever imagine people of the 21st century, reading his work? This is what Castiel loves about books - the connection they allow. Connection to people miles away, connection to people long gone, people he'll never meet - people who have stories to tell and manage to touch something deep-hidden and personal, something the reader longs for, something unnamed and infinite. In this instance, for Castiel, it was the ache for adventure he felt, the thrill of the treasure search, something he'll never participate in. He hopes it's at least interesting for Dean, who still gazes at him, still cowers under the duvet, but listens.

Castiel finishes chapter two, his voice getting hoarse, by the time Dean's eyes keep closing, and yet he's fighting to stay awake, flinching every time he catches himself dozing off. Castiel keeps going, because he doesn't want to leave Dean alone; he wants him to fall asleep feeling safe.

  
  
  
  
  


The next morning, Castiel's knee is in agony. He still has to walk to work. He resolves to leave Dean at home, let him get used to it, and relies on his cane to get him to the bookstore after a delicious breakfast. Dean's a really great cook, it turns out.

The day at the store is long and for the first time in - months, years, maybe? - Castiel can't wait to go back home. He misses the quiet omega, and worries. Dean was supposed to call him if anything was wrong. Even though he couldn't talk, the call itself would make Castiel return to the house.

But Dean doesn't call, and when Castiel limps back, his face contorted in pain, there's a warm dinner waiting for him in a shockingly clean kitchen. He finds Dean sorting the boxes in the living room, a vacuum Castiel hasn't seen in weeks on the carpet next to him.

'You're amazing,' Castiel tells him in awe, because the place starts to look brand new. He didn't even remember the color of the table in the living room - probably because it's actually glass, shiny and wiped clean, without the stacks of books covering every inch of it.

Dean seems happy to hear the compliment, because Castiel thinks he's trying to smile. It comes out as a grimace.

They eat, and Castiel forces Dean to put more on his plate. He finds an old radio and plugs it in, the silence bothering him, and Dean seems to unwind further when the music starts playing. Castiel doesn't see him in the evening, because he has to apply more pads and do some simple exercises, but he assumes he's cleaning. When he comes up at night, Castiel follows him to the bedroom without a word, book in hand.

Dean lies down under the covers, looking both annoyed and pleased. Castiel tucks him in, again, and tries to find the right page in the book.

'No nightmares after we read yesterday?' he asks. Dean waits a second, and then shakes his head. 'Good,' Castiel smiles, and Dean lifts up his hands.

'What?' the alpha asks, and frowns, focusing on the hands. Dean holds up both palms, fingers splayed wide, he does it three times, and then adds four fingers. It looks like he's counting. The number is thirty-four, and at first Castiel thinks he means the book, a page number perhaps, but then Dean quirks an eyebrow - here it is, the skeptical eyebrow, again - and points at himself.

'Oh, you're thirty-four years old?' Castiel asks, and surprises himself by laughing out loud. Dean nods, slightly sullen, but the alpha's amused, because he gets it. 'Too old for bedtime stories, huh?'

Dean shrugs, but there's a sheepish smile on his face. Who knew his omega would be so snarky.

'Well, I don't have to read it to you, you can do it yourself,' Castiel teases, still smiling, and pretends to turn away. Dean's hand shoots out and grabs his sleeve. He huffs. Castiel fills in the blank.  _ Come on, alpha, don't be like that.  _ It makes his heart beat faster.

'I'm just joking,' he says, and settles back down. 'But if you're bored by the book, we can pick something else.'

Dean shakes his head and, timidly, tugs the book from Castiel's grip. He opens it and looks at the pictures; Castiel's showed him the illustrations, because he owns the version with original ones and he's sort of proud of that. Dean finds the picture of  _ chapter 3, The Black Spot, _ and holds it out to Castiel after a short inspection. Castiel understands, he must've been too tired to remember what happened next, and he wants to go back. Very well. That puts an even wider smile on his face.

  
  
  


When he first introduces Dean to the bookstore, the omega looks unsure and scared,  _ and  _ wondering. He follows Castiel down the rows of shelves to the main desk, where they both sit on the rotating chairs and the alpha shows him how to work the till and the scanner. Dean's a quick learner, and he seems excited to be learning the ropes.

When the customers arrive - Castiel's bookstore is quite busy for their small town - Dean gets apprehensive again. Castiel leaves him at the desk whenever the customers ask for help, and guides the omega through the process of selling a book to a gum-popping teenager. Dean's hands shake, but when he finishes, he flashes Castiel a shy smile - a real smile. Castiel's heart flutters in his chest.

It's both endearing and terrifying when the people he knows stop by the store. Most of them are cordial when Castiel introduces Dean as his omega and a new assistant. Garth shakes Dean's hand with fervour, but it causes Dean to retreat to the small room in the back, where Castiel keeps his electric kettle and some stray mugs. He doesn't walk out all day. Garth's had the best intentions, but Castiel decides it's way too early to propose Dean to visit his farm.

Kind moms with kids congratulate Castiel on his omega choice, and pretend they don't notice the scar marring Dean's face and the gory ear. Some people are less subtle, staring at Dean with curiosity and fascinated disgust. Castiel's surprised to realize he's holding back a snarl at those people, and he's extra possessive of Dean all day when it happens, keeping him close and touching him frequently; a brush of their arms, a leg pressed against Dean's when they sit next to each other, hand holding, if Dean allows it.

Some of Castiel's friends, like sheriff Mills or Charlie Bradbury, the geeky woman who always orders niche fantasy books and comics, actually try to chat Dean up. They offer advice and words of encouragement; Dean's not there to hear them, because he escapes to the back, as per usual.

In the face of Dean's aversion to new acquaintances, Castiel acts in accordance with the tips he learned during his course. _ Don't push the omega. Let him come to you.  _ He leaves a tower of books in the back room, so that Dean has something to do when things become overwhelming.

Some people are clearly happy for the two of them. The nice neighbor with two adult children makes them a casserole. Benny, who owns the Cajun food restaurant in the city center, drops off some steaming seafood soup and beignets as a welcome gift. Kevin, a foreign languages student who always looks for obscure books on Latin, Coptic and Sumerian, brings a book called "A Guide To Understanding Omegas". All of it leaves Castiel a little flustered, but warm inside.

Dean eats the gifted food, but refuses to retain eye contact with anyone. On the good days, he works at the main desk. On the slow days, he explores the books, and Castiel's glad to see it happen, to see the growing interest in Dean's eyes as he takes the books off the shelves, always careful not to damage them or crack the spine, and flips through them. Castiel motivates him to take some home, or read them in the back room, but Dean seems to hate being caught showing any curiosity, because as soon as Castiel comments on it, he puts the books back on the shelf. On the bad days, he spends the entire time curled up in the corner of the back room, wedged between the rickety table and the brick wall. One time, Castiel finds him gingerly opening one of the books he left him. He retreats, not to scare Dean, and smiles to himself. Maybe that's progress.

  
  
  
  
  


Nothing is easy at first. Dean cleans and cooks, of course, and Castiel has more time to tend to his leg, not to mention more energy, because he sleeps better and eats better and has someone to talk to. But even their first trip to the shopping center is a disaster.

Dean stalls in front of the revolving doors, and then refuses to go in.

'It's just a shop,' Castiel reasons with him. 'You need clothes, Dean. What are you scared of?'

Dean doesn't reply, he never does, but he grabs Castiel's trench coat when someone passes them by and fists his hands in it. Castiel remembers how he jumped away from the people on the sidewalk outside the adoption center, and figures that Dean's just wary of strangers, or crowds.

'You're safe with me,' he tells Dean, wrapping an arm around him, and Dean's frantic eyes dart to his face. He only tightens his grip on the coat. That's fine, Castiel can work with that. He leads Dean inside, holding him close. They enter the first clothing store he sees.

Dean doesn't want to look at the clothes, and he doesn't want to try anything on, and he doesn't want to let go of Castiel's coat. He shakes so badly, Castiel decides to just get it on with. He stops coaxing Dean and just picks some long-sleeved shirts, a pair of jeans, a pair of sweatpants, socks and underwear. A warm coat, and he has to wrestle Dean's arms into it, trying not to feel guilty when the omega shoots him a betrayed look.

'We have to make sure it fits,' Castiel tries to convince him, but Dean's stubborn and he won't take even one step away from the alpha. He behaves like everyone in the store is a threat, like everyone's out to get him, but the truth is, no one pays any attention to him. Castiel can't stop wondering about it as they drive home, with what's probably a lot of unfitting clothes, but at least Dean relaxes a little.

'What happened to you?' Castiel asks, muses, rather, because Dean doesn't even glance at him.

At home, Dean bolts somewhere, and Castiel assumes he's in his bedroom, but it doesn't turn out to be true. Castiel searches for him for a good thirty minutes, growing anxious, even though Dean definitely didn't leave the house through the front door. Eventually, he finds the omega in his wardrobe, buried under the folded clothes, with only his head visible. Castiel thinks he's asleep, but when he picks him up, he flinches and opens his green eyes. Always scared, and heartbreakingly sad.

When Castiel scoops him up and carries him to the bedroom, bridal style, Dean hesitates and then seems to give up, and nuzzles his cheek into Castiel's neck. He's trembling, and Castiel trembles too, receiving Dean's fragile affection, or maybe seeing him ask for comfort.

He lies Dean down in his bed and then lies down next to him, and hugs him to his chest. The omega's rigid at first, but soon, he shuffles closer. Castiel smiles brightly. Finally,  _ cuddles _ .

It's not that he missed human contact so much - or maybe he did, but didn't realize it before. Maybe it just feels good to be Dean's protector.

After a while, Dean lifts his hands to his face. Castiel moves to stare at him, and Dean mimics something over his eyes, like a mask. A blindfold? Castiel frowns. Dean raises his hands to make a large oval shape and pretends to throw it over his shoulder, like it has weight.

'I'm sorry, I don't think I understand,' Castiel says, hit with a wave of sympathy. With Dean refusing to speak and write, it must be so hard for him to get his point across. 'A mask?'

Dean nods, and then repeats the motion of throwing something over his shoulder and holding it. Like a bag. It reminds Castiel of Santa Claus. Or...

'A thief?' he asks. 'You want me to read you a book about thieves?'

Dean huffs, irritated, and shakes his head. He pats his chest, pointedly.

'You?' Castiel tries. 'You're a thief?' That doesn't make any sense. Dean scowls, and Castiel thinks he understands; the conclusion is grim and horrifying. 'Someone stole  _ you _ ?'

Dean nods, his face pale and serious.

'Dean,' Castiel exhales and hugs him. 'Were you scared this would happen today?'

Another nod.

'Did they steal you from your family?' A headshake. 'Your alpha?' A nod. Castiel sighs. He wondered how many alphas Dean went through; the handler at the adoption center said it was probably a lot. He knows stealing omegas used to be a common problem. Anyone could just walk up to them and grab them, and omegas, scared and timid as they were, rarely found the courage to protest. Alphas didn't earn their reputation without a reason. They were a threat to omegas, and even though omega rights actually exist nowadays, the real world changes slowly. That's why they invented tracking chips and started registering all omegas.

'How many alphas have you had?' Castiel asks Dean, who just shrugs. The sharing time is, apparently, over. Still, Castiel has one more question he wants to ask.

'Do you like it here?'

He's nervous to see the reply, but this time, Dean doesn't pause before nodding wholeheartedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i travel a lot, and i've been down countless roads such as the ones mentioned here - feeling like the forest eats you whole and spits you out in some vaguely rural, dilapidated environment. it has its charm. so the roads are kinda based on real roads, and so are the villages, and so is the building where cas has his bookstore. but the rest is made up, and obviously, theres no such place as Maudeck. 
> 
> the vibe wouldnt let me go so i ended up writing 20K of this randomly, it's almost complete, the other chapters will go up when i'm done editing them. hope you enjoy another rendition of dean and cas figuring out their feelings! please let me know what you think!!! :))


	2. Chapter 2

The omega has some weird quirks, and he doesn't even try to explain them. Like: always waiting in bed for Castiel to get him in the morning, despite being told that he's free to wander the house on his own. Like: spending a long time taking out the containers from the fridge, setting them up in a mysterious order, writing down what Castiel assumes are recipes, and guarding them with an endearing ferocity every time the alpha tries to take a peek. Like: always tasting most ingredients as he cooks (which Castiel finds actually entrancing, Dean's confidence in the kitchen, his full lips wrapped around a spoon as he checks whether he should add something more). Still, it feels excessive, and Castiel wonders if in the past, he were punished for serving soup that was too salty, or something similar. It sounds ridiculous, but so does chopping off - biting off? - a piece of someone's ear, or leaving said someone battered, in a ditch, to die.

Dean still doesn't use the notepad for anything else than his recipes. Castiel tried googling it, checking if it's normal for omegas to be forbidden from expressing thoughts, and he found out that a lot of "traditional" alphas like their omegas to be demure and empty, essentially. No opinion of their own, and definitely no opinion of their own  _ shared  _ in any way. Dean must fear that speaking or writing would be like inviting punishment, but Castiel hopes that one day, he'll understand he doesn't have to worry. It would certainly make their communication easier.

Dean's penchant for hiding lives on. On the tougher days, when he feels overwhelmed by something that happened at the store, or a car honks at him loudly - he almost jumped out of his skin just then and Castiel had a few choice words for the driver - or when he has nightmares, he disappears in the house and only emerges hours later. Castiel tries to find him and bribe him with dinner and some music, but sometimes it's really bad, and he just stares at Castiel blearily from under the sink or the bed, and there's a void in his eyes so deep that Castiel feels panic, clawing up his throat, when he glimpses just how bad Dean's past had been, and how much the omega doesn't tell him.

He hopes some of the fear will be dispersed by the peace of Maudeck, and by his own gentleness. Dean falls into the rhythm and seems to adapt to this new life almost instantly.

That's what Castiel thinks, until, about a month since he adopted Dean, the omega comes to the - now immaculate - living room, and crosses his second and third finger. Castiel frowns. After a minor incident with an angry customer who raised his voice, Dean's been staying home for the last three days, and he had enough time to prepare meals for himself. Upon opening the fridge with an anxious Dean by his side, Castiel realizes Dean has not known he was  _ allowed  _ to eat when he was alone, so he was waiting for Castiel to come home and eat with him, every day.

It takes a long conversation that prompts a small freakout from Dean, but the omega finally accepts a big sandwich Castiel makes for him and promises to eat whenever he's hungry.

Their evening reading becomes a tradition. When they're done with  _ Treasure Island _ , Castiel leads Dean to the tall bookcase in his room and tells him to pick a new one. Dean settles on  _ The Call of the Wild.  _ This one was a gift from Gabriel, ages ago, and Castiel never really read it. It looks brand new even though it's stood on the shelf for years.

The story turns out to be sad, but Dean seems to like it a lot. After that, Castiel chooses  _ The Horse and His Boy  _ from C.S.Lewis, which seems like a good bedtime story to him, but he has a feeling Dean gets bored by it. Next week, the omega pushes  _ Dracula  _ into his hands, clearly entranced by the cover with the hunched silhouette with claws and the dark, looming castle.

  
  
  
  
  


Dean gets used to the house and the bookstore, though Castiel's work presents two remaining problems: Muriel and Jack.

Muriel has been coming to Castiel's bookstore for years. She's an old lady, but not exactly a nice old lady; she loves to read alpha-omega romances despite being a beta, and loves rumors even more. She tried to serve as a matchmaker between Castiel and several young women in town, and she usually just takes a seat in the store and waits for people to come in, to chat them up. It doesn't exactly pose a problem; while annoying at times, it has brought more people in instead of scaring them away. But her comments can cut deep, and she's the first to pry, often unnecessarily.

Castiel worries she'll be judgemental or rude towards Dean. She’s been at her grandson's since July, but it's September now, so he's not surprised when he sees her come in. Muriel immediately spots Dean next to Castiel, and he steels himself.

'Finally!' she exclaims in delight, coming up to the main desk. Dean drops his eyes to the floor and waits for an order or a suggestion. 'I've heard the news and I had to come and see it with my own two eyes! Castiel Novak has gotten himself an omega!'

Dean tenses next to him, so Castiel hooks an arm around his waist.

'Yes, Muriel, this is Dean,' he says proudly.

'I heard he was abused,' Muriel whispers, sounding scandalized and very, very interested. 'What happened? How are you two coping with that?'

'I don't actually know what Dean's been through,' Castiel says, forcing himself to be calm. 'And it doesn't matter to me. We're getting along just fine.'

'Yes, but the scars...' Muriel trails off, staring at Dean's face. Before Castiel can chastise her (make her leave the store), she leans closer and coos. 'And the ear! Oh, you poor thing. You've had a hard life, haven't you?'

Castiel can feel Dean digging his nails into his fists, and he can tell the omega wants to escape.

'Muriel, please be considerate, Dean doesn't like strangers,' he tries to reason with her. 'I know you're excited to meet him and-'

'Meet him!' Muriel repeats. 'I'm excited to see him here every day, Castiel, and if you don't mind, I was talking to your mate. Goodness, he's all skin and bones! Thin as a rail. Do you feed him at all?' She doesn't wait for Castiel's reply before she opens her purse. 'I'll be right back. I need to take care of you boys.'

Castiel utters a long-suffering sigh, but she's already headed for the exit. Dean doesn't relax until she comes back, carrying a freshly baked pie from the bakery across the street. It smells amazing and it perks Dean up.

'Here,' she announces with a smile. 'Apple pie, and I asked Tracy to make it extra large. She knew all about you, dear, and we agreed we need to fatten you up at a little. I know your mate tries, Castiel is such a good man, but sometimes you just need a bit of a woman's touch.'

Castiel fails to see how buying Dean pie is a woman's touch, but he doesn't refuse it. Dean seems happy, he smiles up at Castiel, uncertainly, and he tells him to go eat it in the back and leave him a slice. Dean casts a glance at Muriel and nods towards her, and goes.

'He doesn't talk,' Castiel explains. 'But he's grateful.'

'Good Lord, Castiel, he's so sweet,' Muriel gushes. 'You made a great decision, choosing him.'

'Yes, I think so too,' Castiel smiles. That's something he doesn't have doubts about.

Against all odds, Muriel quickly becomes Dean's favourite. Castiel knows Dean's generally scared and twitchy, but after some time, he starts to suspect that he amps it up in Muriel's presence to get more attention and pie. She loves to chat to Dean about things happening in the city - who sleeps with who, whose family is coming over, who is having birthday this week - and Dean listens. She's absolutely smitten with him and spoils him with sweets - one time even crochets him a pair of warm woolen socks for the winter. Dean looks at them dubiously but Castiel tells him he can keep them, of course, and he catches Dean placing them in the chest by the bed, almost reverently.

His suspicions are confirmed when Muriel comes into the store one day, and Dean suddenly looks especially beaten down. He sulks around the shelves, and when Muriel attempts to comfort him, he hangs his head and stares at the floor. It's almost exaggerated, but half an hour later, Castiel finds him in the back, sitting on the table and devouring a hearty helping of cherry pie.

'Again?' Castiel sighs, and Dean shrugs and stares at him, innocently, mouth full of pie. 'I know what you're doing. You can't exploit Muriel like that.'

Dean swallows and flashes him a cocky grin that Castiel sees for the first time, and it makes his stomach flip.

'I'm serious,' he tries to glare. Dean nods, and waves in the direction of the main room - and Muriel, and taps his wrist. Castiel frowns, trying to read the message. 'Time? The time?' he asks, and Dean nods, and crosses his arms in a giant X. 'No time?' Castiel tries. Dean shakes his head, frustrated, and counts on his fingers, one, two, three, and he gets to four and shakes his hand over the finger, and bends it back. Three times, no fourth time. Oh. 'The last time?' Castiel guesses, and Dean smiles, brilliantly. It's so hard to communicate with Dean. They don't often do the charades, usually they just exchange looks or use the crossed fingers system. But sometimes understanding Dean requires a lot of imagination.

'So this is the  _ last  _ time, huh?' Castiel concludes, teasing, and leans against the sink, arms crossed. Dean nods, seriously, and pats his stomach, points to the pie, gives a thumbs up. 'Oh, it's good, yes?' Dean nods again, smiling and satisfied, and Castiel laughs. 'Yes, I bet it is.'

Dean holds out a plate with another piece; Castiel didn't see it before, but the omega must've prepared it for him. He takes it and they eat in comfortable silence. The cherry pie really is amazing.

'Maybe just one more time,' Castiel concedes, and Dean laughs quietly, and looks at the alpha, amused, his green eyes shining. Moments like these, Castiel hopes he'll open his mouth and say something. He never loses that hope.

  
  
  
  
  


Gradually, things get better. Dean likes to sit on the couch watching TV when Castiel gets his new books delivered, and unpacks the boxes in the living room every other Sunday. He adds them to the online inventory; the titles, the authors, the prices. He also plans which books to donate to a library in another town, and works on discounts and bundle deals to get rid of the books that don't sell well.

He uses a POS software for the inventory management and it always gives him a headache, but at least he's looking forward to arranging the Halloween sale. All young kids go to the local school in Maudeck, and Castiel's bookstore is famous for the ridiculously cheap deals and the intricate decor that he puts up for two weeks before Halloween. There's a lot of candy to hand out to everyone, and a cackling life-sized skeleton that Castiel's grown fond of. He hopes Dean will help him pick some scary books and DVDs, but that's next month. For now, he focuses on paying the bills. When he opens his e-mail, he gets a notice that Dean's heat is coming up soon. He forgot that the adoption center signed him up to an omega newsletter that will inform him about heats and upcoming doctor checkups.

'Dean,' he says, and the omega startles and immediately turns off the TV. 'We have to talk about your heat.'

Dean sits up straighter and folds his hands in his lap. Castiel knows what this means. _ I'm scared but I'm listening, please don't hit me.  _ He sighs.

'I don't think we're... well-acquainted enough to be together for your heat,' he says, and Dean nods quickly, but it's impossible to miss the flash of hurt and disappointment on his face. Castiel gets up off the chair and comes over to the omega. 'Dean,' he leans close, placing a hand on Dean's thigh. 'I find you very desirable.'

Dean rolls his eyes.  _ Right _ .

'I don't think it's fair to have sex with you,' Castiel continues. 'You're unable to tell me if it's something you really want.'

Dean, in an uncharacteristic move, slaps his hand away and turns around, his back to Castiel. It's a level of insolence that's very rare for the omega, so Castiel can tell it really bothers him a lot.

'I don't think your heat is the right time for us to have sex for the first time,' he insists. They warned him about this on the omega course, too. It's too easy to mistake obedience for want, and heats, like ruts, tend to be brutal and not about love at all. Castiel doesn't want that. If they ever have their first time - and judging by Dean's reaction, it's not that improbable - he wants it to be sweet and exploratory and slow. Maybe he's a hopeless romantic, but he thinks it's what both he and Dean need.

'I've thought about getting you suppressants,' Castiel reveals, still talking to Dean's back. 'You won't have a heat at all, for a while, and then, when you decide you want to get off the pills, we can. Um. Be intimate together.'

Dean whips back to look at him. He mimics swallowing a pill. Skeptical eyebrow makes an appearance.

'Your heats will stop if you take the pills, yes,' Castiel confirms, and Dean stares at him. 'It's completely safe. Most omegas use suppressants, nowadays.'

Dean nods, and then nods again, enthusiastically. His hurt feelings forgotten, he looks both suspicious and relieved to try it. Is it possible that he's never even heard of suppressants? Did he think that Castiel was going to make him survive his heat alone?

Later that day, Castiel goes upstairs to get ready for bed, and hears Dean in the bathroom, the unmistakable sound of... someone seeking pleasure. The door is locked, but for a torturous, never-ending second, Castiel wishes it were open instead and he would've gotten a glimpse of the omega, head tipped back, hand on his cock, a flush on his chest. Dean's very quiet, but Castiel thinks he hears - thinks his quickening breaths sound almost like  _ Cas _ .

God, he really needs to sleep with someone (Dean). It's been so long, he doesn't even remember what it feels like, sharing a bed with someone (Dean), and sharing pleasure, too. It's like he's perpetually aroused lately, thinking of a lithe body (Dean) underneath him, thinking of sinking into the tight heat of (Dean), thinking of hearing Dean's moans and pleas and of going so slowly the omega will be begging for it, and he'll pull all the way out until Dean opens his mouth and says _ please, alpha  _ and he'll sound so fucked out and sinful, Castiel will kiss him and taste him and then take him apart, his lips on every part of his body, sucking bruises into his skin, and then he'll-

The doorknob twists and the bathroom door opens, and Dean stops and stares at him, looking like he was caught doing something outrageously illegal.

'Are you done?' Castiel asks, his voice heavy and sounding weird to his own ears. God, what an idiotic thing to say, 'I mean - uh, you were, uh, taking a shower and I - wanted to do it too. A shower. I - I'll go in, now.' He stumbles over the words, and he's not sure which one of them is blushing more at this point, but he sees Dean quirk his eyebrow again, but this time - it's not skeptical, but amused. Castiel doesn't know what to think of it as he faces his bright red self in the mirror, but his dick  _ definitely  _ knows, tenting the front of his pants obscenely. He thinks of that smug look on Dean's face as he strokes himself, right where Dean stood doing the same thing just minutes ago.

Just grow up and admit you have a crush, Castiel tells himself. Admit it to  _ him _ . Go and politely offer Dean to fuck him so hard his legs won't ever close again.

But he won't. Because he's a modern alpha. He adopted an abused omega and he's taking things  _ slow _ . He's being respectful and mindful. He's a boring middle-aged bookstore owner in a forgotten part of America, who hasn't gotten laid in years.

When he comes out of the shower, Dean's already asleep in his room. It's the only evening when they don't read books together.

The next morning, Castiel finds Dean perched on the windowsill, staring at the lake, sleepy. He's wrapped in the duvet and wearing Muriel's warm socks, and Castiel wants to come over and kiss him.

'Do you want to go to another town with me?' he asks instead. 'I need to deliver the books I promised to donate to the library.'

Dean wants to go, but his eyes linger on the lake. The road to Satbury is wider and more scenic than the one that led them to Maudeck; it's an asphalt lane able to accommodate two cars at the same time, looping gently around every slope and hill in the distance, like a gliding serpent. There's a wooden railing and fewer trees, the sun streams through the branches. Dean tips his head towards it and closes his eyes, and it makes Castiel smile.

He drives slowly, because he's still not sure if Dean's scared of the speed or not. It's not that far away, and Satbury is bigger than Maudeck. Castiel takes the road through the center of the town, hoping to interest Dean, and the omega does look around.

'Do you like it?' Castiel asks, and Dean makes a so-so motion with his hand. He gestures behind himself and raises his thumb. 'What, better view from behind?'

Dean snorts and shakes his head. He gestures again.

'Behind,' Castiel keeps trying. 'Back?' Dean nods. 'Back there, it was better?' Dean rolls his eyes, annoyed. 'What, I'm sorry I'm unable to instantly interpret your pantomimes.'

Dean seems to shrink back and drops his eyes. Damn it.

'Dean, it doesn't bother me,' Castiel searches for his hand, and squeezes it, driving down one of the main streets of Satbury. 'I enjoy communicating with you, even if it's a little hard. But I respect your wish to remain silent. Just don't get annoyed if it takes me a few tries.'

He can feel Dean staring at him from the corner of his eye.

'So, back there,' Castiel continues. 'You don't mean the road, I guess. So Maudeck?' Dean nods, and shows Castiel a thumbs up, again. 'You like Maudeck better, huh?'

Dean seems very satisfied with Castiel's conclusion and settles back with a small smile on his face. Castiel feels... strange. Something primal in him puffs up in pride. He impressed his mate.

Except they're not mates, not like  _ that _ , and who knows if they'll ever be.

They stop at a street food stand Castiel's been visiting for years, and get a wurst and fries each. It's getting hot and there's no rain for the first time in forever. After the meal, they drive to the library, and Dean takes the boxes before Castiel can pick them up from the trunk. Maybe it's because he's limping a little; maybe Dean just wants to feel useful. Either way, Castiel thanks him, and leads him to the inside of the library.

People there know him, and congratulate him on his mating. Again. Castiel feels irritated, but really, he's the only one to blame; people use the term loosely, to describe any sort of relationship an alpha adopting an omega might have. No one asks if an omega is just a house servant or a sexual partner, it's considered bad taste. Taking care of an omega is already a commitment and it's called taking on a mate, because - as Castiel suspects and as omega rights activists claim - otherwise it would have to be called buying a slave.

But there are alpha omega instincts to take into account, too. And Castiel knows they're very real, from the way Dean goes lax when he tells him he did a good job, from the way he feels confident and possessive when he can show-off his omega to the librarians. When they head back, Castiel makes a detour and stops by the lake. Dean glances at him, questioning, and Castiel smiles.

'You looked like you wanted to see it up close,' he says. 'Come on, it's one of the few sunny days, we might as well make use of it.'

Dean bounces on the balls of his feet as Castiel reaches for a blanket he keeps folded in the backseat. They make their way through the receding forest, and find themselves on a small clearing by the lake. There's a strip of grass where Castiel spreads the blanket, and Dean steps onto the old, rickety pier, staring at the shiny surface of the lake.

'People used to come here, families,' Castiel tells him, joining him at the pier. The wooden boards creak dangerously. 'When I first came to this town. But then, they built the public pool in Satbury, and this place was forgotten.'

Dean turns to him and points to the lake, and mimics diving.

'You want to swim?' Castiel asks, and Dean nods, enthusiastically. The alpha didn't expect that, not with Dean's usual timidness, but it's not a problem. 'Alright.'

As soon as he agrees, Dean tugs his shirt over his head, and then his pants. Castiel starts undressing too, but they don't have swim trunks, and he wonders what to do about that when Dean turns to him, already naked, and flashes him a wide smile. He takes a few steps back and, before Castiel can react, sprints down the pier and cannonballs into the water.

Castiel watches, mesmerized, as he disappears beneath the wild waves he created with the splash, and then emerges, spitting water and rubbing his eyes and looking so  _ happy _ .

'Is it warm?' Castiel calls out, and Dean gives him a thumbs down, but his smile doesn't falter. It makes Castiel laugh but then Dean swims up to him and gestures for him to join him. The alpha finishes stripping and slides down the pier to land in the water. It's  _ cold  _ and deeper than he expected and it covers his head at once before he comes back to the surface, hating the muddy taste of the lake. They scare some tiny fish that scramble away from them, but Dean looks thrilled and he starts swimming, slowly, closing his eyes and looking at the sun.

Castiel's not sure what to do; the situation is strangely intimate, with both of them essentially skinny dipping. But it doesn't turn awkward at all. Dean swims leisurely and waves at Castiel to follow his lead. They swim around the lake, watching the forest and enjoying the sun beating down their backs, warming their faces. At some point, Dean dives, too, and covers a really great distance underwater, while Castiel watches with a smile. He looks so young and carefree, his smile is contagious.

After a while, they swim back to the pier, and get out of the water. Dean attempts to put his clothes back on, but Castiel grabs his hand.

'Let's dry on the blanket,' he offers, and Dean hesitates, glancing down his body for a moment or two, but he nods. His happiness slips away, though, without water to cover the proof of his abuse.

They lie down on the blanket, their naked bodies almost touching. Castiel closes his eyes. It's amazing. His arms and legs are covered in goosebumps, but it's so warm and soon, he only feels pleasant heat as he dries. He can hear birds and insects and small animals in the woods, the snap of twigs, the rustle of leaves, the occasional plunk as something lands in the lake. He's so relaxed he almost falls asleep, and that's why he missed when Dean started crying.

Finally, he's roused by how the blanket is shaking, the almost-not-there vibrations he can feel in the air. He opens his eyes and turns to his side, only to see Dean curled up with his knees to his chest and sobbing without a sound.

'Dean,' Castiel says, alarmed, and gets up. 'What's going on?'

Dean only shakes his head and covers it with his arms. Castiel steps off the blanket and wraps it around Dean's trembling form, tightly.

'It's okay,' he tries to soothe, feeling more helpless than usual. 'It's fine, Dean, let's sit you up.'

Dean lets himself be maneuvered into a sitting position, but he doesn't uncurl. Castiel wraps his arms around him and rests his chin on his head, even though he feels weird, crouching naked in the clearing, the grass tickling his shins and the inside of his feet.

'Okay, I'm gonna ask questions, and then we'll figure it out,' he announces when Dean's shaking subsides a little and his cries turn to sniffs. 'Will you stay put if I go get my clothes?'

Dean nods, surly, so Castiel lets go and almost runs to the pier. He puts his clothes on hastily, and gets Dean's. When he comes back, the omega hasn't moved an inch.

'Are you hurt?' Castel asks quietly, kneeling in front of Dean. The omega shakes his head.

'Are you scared?' Again, a miss. Castiel doesn't let it deter him. 'Did you feel uncomfortable doing what we were doing?' He's determined to get to the bottom of it, even though Dean shakes his head, again.

'So it was nice? Swimming in the lake, and lying here?'

Dean nods, and then, after a fearful glance of his swollen eyes, he holds up two fingers.

'Two?' Castiel frowns, and tries to figure it out. Dean's lip wobbles. He sticks his two fingers in Castiel's face, again, like a peace sign, with desperation. 'Two...' Castiel repeats. 'Maybe you mean too? Too - nice?'

Dean nods and his mouth opens in another breathy sob that's not really a sound. He stares at Castiel and he looks so distressed and lost, like he's pleading with Castiel to understand.

'The time we spent here - it was  _ too  _ nice?' Castiel asks, struggling to get it. Maybe Dean's really so unused to getting to do what he wants, to getting some rest, to having an alpha that doesn't hit him anytime he makes a move - maybe this is just too overwhelming.

Dean nods and grasps Castiel's hand in a frantic way, and runs a finger across his throat, and pats his chest. Castiel frowns. The throat-cutting gesture is obvious... Could Dean feel so unsafe that he'd expect Castiel to -

'Do you mean to ask if I'll... kill you?' Castiel chokes out, horrified by the idea. Besides, how would Dean come to such a conclusion, he's been doing his  _ best  _ to convince Dean that he's safe, that he can be himself, that he - loves him, and now-

But Dean shakes his head, looking irritated. He clearly thinks it's ridiculous, which calms Castiel down. He repeats the motion, and pats his chest, forcefully

'You,' Castiel starts, and Dean encourages him to go on. He mimics being dead, his eyes roll back, he tips his head back, and it would look silly in any other scenario, but it doesn't now. Castiel's blood runs cold. 'Are you asking if... you're dead?'

Dean stares at him in anxious anticipation, his eyes full of resignation, his mouth twisted, his hands holding the blanket around his body like a shield.

Castiel's first instinct is to laugh, but it's not funny. He knows it's not, he knows Dean means it, and he can't fathom how - how could someone think that, and-

'No,' he replies, and then, more sternly, 'No. You are very much alive.'

Dean looks like he didn't expect that response. He scrunches up his face like he's trying to stop himself from crying again, and looks away, to the lake.

Castiel's head is spinning.  _ Too nice _ . Is this what Dean thinks heaven is like? He should feel flattered, maybe, but all he feels is sudden despair, vast and impossible to understand. Dean raises his hand to the scar across his neck and cheek, and touches it, and his mangled ear, as if he's checking if they're still there. On a whim, Castiel leans forward and kisses Dean's ear gently, on top where it's missing a part, the flesh long-healed but gory looking. Tears run down Dean's cheeks.

'Did you think you died in that ditch?' Castiel asks, brushing Dean's hair. The omega wipes his eyes and grimaces, and makes a see-saw motion with his hand. 'Sometimes?' Castiel guesses, and Dean nods. At least he's getting better at interpreting Dean's language.

They drive back in silence. Castiel's good mood is gone, replaced by something he can't name. An emptiness, maybe. In the evening, he sits on the chair next to Dean's bed, and reads him another book. He's halfway through  _ A Christmas Carol _ when Dean holds out a hand and grabs Castiel's, and brings the knuckles to his mouth. It's a soft, barely-there kiss, but Castiel's eyes mist over all the same.

  
  
  
  
  


The longer Castiel thinks about it, the more sense it makes. The sterile, prison-like interior of the adoption center; a year of being rejected and spending time in a tiny room, or on the grass outside. Locked. If Dean really thought he died in the ditch by the road, the adoption center might've been purgatory to him. Then, they traveled to Maudeck, through the green forests and dilapidated villages. They even passed by the Mother Mary who guards the road. And since then, the house, the lake, the bookstore, everything has been too nice to Dean, who's already working through years of abuse - internally. Castiel doesn't know where he goes when he hides in the various places around the house, but it's somewhere he can't reach him, and it's dark and hopeless. So maybe this, in comparison, really feels too good to be true, really feels like heaven.

Later that week, he finds Dean waiting in his bed in the morning, in a nest. He finally used the blankets from the chest, and he sits, surrounded by them, sleepy but at ease. Castiel smiles widely when he sees it. One day, he thinks. One day, they'll share the nest, they'll sleep together, they'll hold hands at the market and on the sidewalk and Dean will open his mouth and say all the things Castiel wanted to hear. What happened to him. What he's feeling right now.

Autumn slowly arrives in their town. The leaves yellow and fall and gather on the streets, the wind picks up, the temperature lowers. Dean starts going shopping with him, instead of staying in the house.

It gets dark earlier, and the days in the bookstore feel especially pleasant to Castiel. Watching the sun go down through the stained glass window never fails to amaze him, and what's even better, Dean sometimes stands right in front of it, staring at the sunset, and Castiel gets to look at him, too. His flannel-clad back, the curve of his buttocks, the long legs. When Dean turns around and catches him looking, he usually offers a sheepish smile. With time, it turns teasing. Castiel never looks away.

Dean finally caves and starts reading out in the open. He curls up on the couch in the middle of the bookstore and goes through the books Castiel brings him. To his credit, the alpha spends a lot of time picking them. They might be reading classics at home, but at the store, thinking about Dean's one-year reclusion, Castiel finds him world atlases with huge pictures of deserts, waterfalls and mountains. Dean reads them dutifully, and Castiel asks him about his favourite places at the end of the day, before they close the shop. One afternoon, Dean comes over to his desk and points to an old Camaro, photographed on a busy street of a huge American town. Boston, Castiel thinks. It turns out that Dean wants to see more cars, so Castiel gets him a stack of books about them. The omega likes both photobooks and technical books, with the insides of cars drawn and described in studious detail.

When he asks about it, Dean mimics holding a wrench and fixing something.

'You want to learn how to fix cars?' Castiel tries, but Dean shakes his head. Despite Dean's attempts, Castiel can't understand him. He forgets all about it until Dean brings him a can of coke in the evening and slams it on the table at home.

'What?'

Dean points to it, and mimics the wrench again. It takes Castiel a moment to catch up.

'Dean, it's a can of coke, I don't see how that- oh,' he realizes, though it's a stretch to get it. But if he were in Dean's place, he'd have no idea how to show it either. 'You  _ can  _ fix cars already?'

Dean nods with an annoyed and relieved huff.

'Are you good at it?' Castiel ventures, and Dean nods empathically, with pride. 'Who taught you? Your alpha?'

Dean scowls and shakes his head.

'Your dad?'

That must be the right answer, and also the wrong thing to ask. Dean doesn't try to communicate for the rest of the evening, choosing to stay in the kitchen writing his recipes, instead. Castiel doesn't get why he does that, there's bound to be hundreds of recipes in his little notebook by now. But when he rounds the corner and peeks inside, there’s peanut butter, chamomile tea and wholegrain bread laid out on the counter in front of him, and Dean's leaning over, writing things down.

  
  
  
  
  


One afternoon, Dean's helping Castiel put new books on the shelves, when one falls out of his hands and clutters to the floor. Dean looks terrified - he picks it up, thrusts it at Castiel and escapes to the back. Castiel finds him hidden under the table, staring at nothing.

'It's just a book, nothing happened,' he assures Dean, kneeling on the floor. 'Come out?'

Dean doesn't react, so Castiel leaves him be. Muriel visits, and she's awfully concerned about his "Deanie", and brings pie. Shockingly, Dean doesn't budge even for that. It's late already and when Castiel closes the store, he has to physically drag Dean from under the table and carry him to the car, unresponsive and unresisting.

He worries about him, of course; even though it happened before, it was never that bad. Dean refuses to eat and then refuses to shower, so Castiel deposits him on his bed with a sigh. Dean immediately wraps himself in the various blankets and duvets, and lies down, facing the window.

Castiel still reads to him, and goes to bed with a heavy heart.

At night, he wakes up to use the bathroom, and sees that the light is on. It surprises him, so he moves quietly - the door is open. He peers inside. Dean's standing at the sink, the drawer open, one of Castiel's strong painkillers in his hand. The other hand is shaking and spasming, and Dean's face is screwed up in pain.

Oh. The right hand, that was supposed to malfunction in the future. That's why Dean dropped the book.

The omega notices him, then, and freezes like a deer in the headlights.

'Dean,' Castiel starts, hoping to soothe him, but suddenly, Dean bolts, his body driven by pure panic. He climbs on the toilet and pushes open the window, and the next few seconds are a blur. Castiel launches himself through the room, Dean manages to fit himself halfway through the window - the window on the first floor, high enough that he could die if he fell wrong, he could break his neck or his back and Castiel's future mate, the love of his life, would be gone in seconds, sprawled in his backyard, all because of a single pill.

'Are you crazy?!' Castiel yells, grabbing Dean's narrow hips and yanking him back. Dean fights him -  _ why?! _ \- and holds onto the window frame, his upper body hanging outside, clawing at the outer wall. He must see how high it is, he must sober up at some point, because he pushes himself back into the bathroom at once, and also kicks out at Castiel. In his terror, he has amazing aim, because his foot hits Castiel's bad knee, and the alpha collapses to the floor with a cry of pain.

Dean drops to the floor next to him. A roll of toilet paper tumbled down during their struggle, and now it's unraveled all over the place. Castiel lies on the floor, moaning in pain, seeing white because of it, gripping his knee and willing the pain to end. He has to get himself together, because if Dean tries to jump out again-

But Dean doesn't. Dean kneels on the floor next to him, eyes huge and arms trembling, and runs a frantic hand through Castiel's hair in a sloppy attempt to comfort him.

The knee still pulses in pain, too immense to move or even utter a word. Castiel scrunches his eyes and grabs Dean's hand, and holds onto it.

He's shocked when he feels that Dean's picking him up. He wavers under Castiel's weight, but he doesn't give up. He throws Castiel's arm over his shoulders and half-drags, half-carries him to the bedroom. He helps him lie down, and then puts something in his hand.

Castiel looks down. It's the pill. He swallows it like his life depends on it, praying for at least a second of respite from pain, just a moment of clarity.

It takes a while to work, and Dean's by his side all that time, anxiously squeezing Castiel's hand and gently probing his knee. It hurts, and Castiel lets him know with a string of grunts and curses, so Dean stops.

The rest of the night is hell. Even when the pain lets up a bit, it's still as bad as it was right after the accident. Dean comes and goes, and Castiel can't even worry. He just lies in his bed, biting the pillow or his forearm, and rides it out. Dean brings him water, and more pills, and a heating pad that he dubiously places over Castiel's knee. It helps, minimally.

Finally, Castiel falls into troubled slumber at dawn. He doesn't know how much sleep he gets, but at least when he wakes, it's still light outside. He missed his day at work, but it doesn't bother him. One of the perks of being his own boss. He has two missed calls - Charlie and Kevin both noticed the store was closed, and wanted to check in. The leg still hurts, but it's not the same all-consuming pain from before. He slides his legs off the bed, one after another, and immediately bumps into someone.

Dean. Curled up on the floor, with his head resting on Castiel's bed, asleep. His right hand is cradled to his chest and even though Castiel was physically unable to help him all night, he still feels a pang of guilt. It was Dean's poor hand that started it all.

'Dean,' he whispers, his voice rough. The omega startles and blinks his eyes open. He's instantly worried.

'I'm better now,' Castiel tells him. 'How's your hand?'

Dean takes something from his lap and hands it to him. Castiel squints at it; it's a piece of paper, torn out from the notebook. There's just one word on it, shaky but clear. "Sorry".

Despite the night of agony and yesterday's disaster, this just fuels the hope that things are getting better. Dean decided to write, and it must've hurt him to do so, but he still did it.

Dean's staring at him from the floor, exhausted but scared.

'It's okay,' he tells the omega, and pets Dean's head. 'It wasn't your fault. I know you were scared. Don't worry about punishment or anything like that, you're safe.'

Dean nods slowly, and Castiel's disheartened to see his shoulders slump in relief. Dean really was terrified of being sent over to the correctioners, of losing a limb. Castiel tries to imagine spending the entire night thinking someone was going to cut off his leg or arm, and he can't.

With effort, he sits back down on the bed, and puts his hand on Dean's shoulder.

'You will  _ never  _ get punished for anything here, not if I can help it,' he promises. 'No one is going to hurt you. And I'm not returning you to the center, and I'm not mad. Does your hand still hurt?'

Dean watches him for a long while, and Castiel's not sure if he'll answer. But eventually, he nods.

'It's okay to take painkillers,' Castiel tells him. 'I just want you to let me know first, so that I'm aware of the medication you're taking. And we'll try out the PT exercises for your hand - and for my knee.'

Dean's lips purse; upset. He grabs the piece of paper from where Castiel left it on the nightstand, and shakes it, with emphasis.

'I know you're sorry,' Castiel says. 'It's alright. But you can't go jumping out of windows, Dean. I know you were panicked but - you could've died. And I don’t know how I’d live with that, because I care about you.'

Dean's looking at him from the floor, listening. Castiel can't read anything from his face, but slowly, the skeptical eyebrow returns. It's subtle like always. The omega drops his eyes to Castiel's swollen knee, and leans in and presses a gentle kiss to it. It tickles and it's so sweet that Castiel loses his breath for a moment, but then, Dean sits back and raises his thumb.

It makes Castiel laugh, and breaks the strange intimate tension.

'Oh, you healed it with a kiss, huh?' he asks, and Dean offers a shy smile. Like he's not sure if the joke was proper. 'Yeah,’ Castiel says, carding a hand through his hair, his thumb caressing Dean’s cheek. ‘I feel better already.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy destiel day!!!  
> let me know your favourite moments, or your least favourite moments, if you liked it at all! working on chapter 3 :) <3


	3. Chapter 3

They have a new sign for when Dean's hand hurts; three pats on his right shoulder. They try out the exercises Castiel finds online, and they're not easy, so they end up adjusting the pace to Dean's abilities. Castiel works on his leg, too, and most days, it leaves him a crumpled mess on the carpet next to bed, sweaty and in pain. Dean helps him, picking him up, bringing him anything he needs, cheering with gestures and smiles when Castiel manages to go through an entire round of exercises. Castiel knows that he still feels guilty about what happened; Castiel's just thankful that he got to Dean on time. He still remembers the blind panic he felt watching Dean worming his body through the window, so high above the ground.

When it's half of October, Castiel asks Dean to help him pick out the movies and books for Halloween. The omega spends a lot of time online, finding pictures of the movies in Google Graphics, and adding the interesting ones to the cart. Later, when Castiel orders them, Dean unpacks them and studies the covers with shiny eyes. He comes over with one of the DVDs and gestures towards the TV.

Castiel doesn't have the heart to tell him that he won't be able to sell it if they open it. Instead, he turns on the TV and they spend the evening on the couch, watching a movie about a boy who goes into a coma and promptly gets possessed by various entities and demons that live - in the house? Dean seems to enjoy it a lot, his eyes glued to the screen, but Castiel sort of wishes the movie ended already. He jumps at the scares and, when his distress level becomes uncomfortable, he leaves the room under the pretense of making tea. The leaves rustle outside, the street is dark even with the sparse lit lanterns. Castiel can  _ just  _ make out a shape of a man lingering in the shadows, next to the fence.

A hand lands on his shoulders and he honest to God yelps, spilling tea everywhere. It's Dean, and he arches an eyebrow - of course he does - looking questioning and amused. He points to his wrist, and nods towards the living room and TV.

'We still have time to watch, yes,' Castiel assures him, wiping the tea from the counter. 'You startled me.'

Dean repeats the motion patiently, like always when Castiel doesn't get his gestures. The alpha's glad that they've come to this point, where neither of them gets annoyed or mad. Most of the time at least.

'The time,' Castiel starts, often feeling like he's participating in a guessing game. Dean nods, and then pretends to run in place. 'Oh! The time is running out. You could've just kept going without me, really,' Castiel chuckles nervously. But Dean shakes his head and then leads him to the living room, holding his hand. Castiel's so jarred by it, he forgets to be scared. They finish the movie and while it's not exactly pleasant, Dean pressed up against him  _ is _ .

At night, Castiel can't sleep. It's stupid but he keeps seeing the red-faced demon from the movie, and his heart is beating a mile a minute whenever he closes his eyes. Frustrated, he groans into his pillow. It's just a dumb movie. Maybe if Dean were here...

As if beckoned by his thoughts, the omega enters the room. When he sees Castiel, sitting in bed in the  _ safe  _ circle of light, he smiles knowingly. Castiel glares.

'It's your fault,' he says, grumpily. 'We could've watched something less... intense.'

Dean just snorts, and comes over. He sits on Castiel's bed, next to him, and presents him with a book.

Castiel reads. It's the first night when Dean falls asleep in his bed - on it, actually. Castiel covers him with a duvet and with the omega snoring quietly next to him, he's no longer afraid.

  
  
  
  


The Halloween sale goes swimmingly. Dean laughs when he sees Castiel's beloved plastic skeleton. He helps set up the other decorations, and steals a lot of candy - it was for the kids, but the alpha doesn't chide him for it. His heart grows when he sees Dean stuffing his face with sweets and reading a graphic horror novel, hidden behind a giant pumpkin. Its eyes are glowing and it cackles every time someone passes by. Sometimes Castiel thinks Dean picked that spot because it warns him whenever someone's nearby.

He doesn't want to interact with anyone, but when Muriel brings seasonal pumpkin pie, he eats it. Charlie is the only person who manages to coax Dean out of his shell; she announces she needs a really good movie and Castiel calls Dean an expert -  _ loudly  _ and with pride - and Dean ends up helping her, or rather surveying the shelves on his own and then depositing three DVDs on the main desk, and disappearing in the back.

Castiel really hoped Dean would bond with the kids, a little. Omegas are supposed to be good with children because of their gentle nature. There's so many of them in the bookstore, but it's probably the fact that they generate so much noise that scares Dean away. One day, though, Castiel stumbles onto an uncanny sight. There's a boy in the back room, wailing, with his knees skinned. And Dean's rubbing his shoulder comfortingly, and shushing him. The kid still cries, and Castiel watches as Dean offers him a piece of leftover pie from the mini-fridge, and opens one of the scary comics he keeps by the table, and shows the kid. The boy calms down slowly, and then sits next to Dean, cross-legged, and watches the pictures of Ichabod Crane with huge eyes.

Castiel stands in the doorway, feeling emotional. Too emotional, in fact - he  _ knew  _ his omega is a good person, so why does this move him so much? Maybe it's the look of peace on Dean's face, maybe it's the eagerness with which he tries to entertain the kid. He points to the headless rider and makes a scary face, and the boy giggles.

'You're cool,' he announces. Dean winks at him, and Castiel's stomach flips. Dean holds up two fingers and points at the kid.

'Huh?' he asks. 'I don't get it.'

'He means that you're cool too,' Castiel explains, smiling. Both Dean and the kid jump, startled by him. 'What happened?'

'Ben Davis and Liam Williams are dicks!' the boy informs them ferociously. 'Mom said I get to buy the new  _ Graveyard School  _ and they pushed me in here and took it from me! There's no more left!’

Castiel frowns. He remembers a couple of kids buying the  _ Graveyard School _ books today. Maybe some of them really wrenched an issue out of the boy's hands.

'Which one did you want to get?' he asks.

' _ Slime Lake _ !' the boy exclaims, still righteously furious, and Dean quirks an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, and pats his chest and holds up two fingers. Castiel snorts and rolls his eyes.

'I think we should have some in the boxes,' he tells the kid. 'Wait here.'

He looks in the other room, shuffling the boxes, and finally finds the right one. Just as expected. The  _ Graveyard School _ books are a hit among kids despite being two decades old.

He brings two copies to the back room, and hands one to the kid - and one to Dean. The omega grins at him, and they stare at each other for a moment. There's familiarity and ease to it that Castiel loves with everything he's got.

'Awesome!' the kid yells. 'Thanks, mister! And thanks for the pie!'

He runs out of the bookstore without paying. Castiel sighs, but he's amused. Dean's looking at him with a strange, fond look.

'Let's close up early and eat all the remaining chocolate,' Castiel says, and Dean vehemently agrees.

  
  
  
  


After Halloween, there's the Jack incident. It's the most dramatic thing that ever happens in the library. Jack Kline's a frequent visitor - though in his twenties, most of the time he behaves like a child. His mother, Kelly, is hardworking and sweet, and Castiel likes the pair a lot, even though he never actually found out what's wrong with Jack. He must have some kind of intellectual disability, Castiel supposes; it doesn't stop him from spending time with the boy, though, and Kelly seems to love him for it. Jack may be largely clueless and socially inept, mostly because of his painful honesty and inability to read emotions, but he's kind and enthusiastic. Kelly often drops him off at the store, not wanting to leave him at home alone, and he sits in his favourite corner on the blue bean bag and reads the newest batch of Star Wars comics that Castiel orders every two weeks.

The problem is, he seems fascinated by Dean.

He stares at the omega, openly, everytime he sees him. He follows him around the store, sometimes, keeping some distance, but it's unnerving even to Castiel. When Dean turns around, Jack pretends to be looking at the shelves. Castiel noticed it annoys Dean, but the omega never tried to do anything about it.

One day, though, Castiel's in the back unpacking new books and he only realizes something happened when he hears a loud, dull sound, a scream full of pain and then the scrambling of feet. Worried, he runs back to the main room and sees Jack on the floor, wailing, hands over his head, rocking back and forth.

'Jack,' Castiel says and makes his way to him. His leg works normally for once - a small blessing. 'What happened?'

He looks around, but Dean's not there, and what's worse, the front door is wide open. Castiel's chilled to the bone; his omega escaped.

'He hit me!' Jack cries, eyes furious and wounded. Castiel understands; in Jack's mind, he didn't do anything to deserve being punched, and now he can't wrap his head around it.

'Where?' Castiel asks, his heart beating like crazy; he needs to go after Dean, what if something happened to him? He knows Dean wouldn't have lashed out for no reason, and maybe Jack can't see that, but Castiel can. For now, he has to take care of the boy. Jack lets him see the big bruise already forming on his cheek. Castiel curses. It was a strong punch. Jack stares at him, guileless and terrified.

'Jack, why did Dean hit you?' Castiel asks.

'I don't know!' Jack sulks. 'I just wanted to be friends with him.'

'Did you touch him?'

'He was mean to me!' Jack reports, petulantly. 'I said hi, and he didn't want to shake my hand.'

'Dean doesn't like being touched, Jack,' Castiel tells him softly.

'My mom told me you have to shake someone's hand when you say hi,' Jack replies, frustrated. 'I was just being nice! And I asked him where he got his scars.'

Castiel sighs.

'Jack, you can't ask people such things. It's impolite and it brings back bad memories,' he tries to explain, but Jack shakes his head.

'But I just said it looked cool! He looks like Commander Fusion.'

'Commander who?' Castiel furrows his brow.

'Fusion! He's one of my favourite superheroes. He saves the city more than five times in  _ The Fist Of Honor.  _ He also doesn't have an ear, like Dean. I asked Dean to come see the comics with me, but he just stared at me and tried to leave.'

'Jack-' Castiel starts, exasperated, a big part of him just wanting to find Dean and hug him. He imagines his frightened omega being cornered by Jack, and not being able to call for help.

'But he's an omega, and I'm an alpha,' Jack puffs up his chest. 'So I grabbed his neck and forced him to come. I knew he'd like it if he went! I wanted us to be friends. But then he punched me!'

'Jack,' Castiel grits out, his head spinning. 'You put your hand at the nape of his neck?'

'Yes!' Jack nods. 'It makes omegas listen to us.'

'Did you stop to think how it makes them feel? You forced Dean to do something he didn't want to do. Dean is scared of alphas, Jack, and you scared him even more.'

Jack's anger evaporates, and his face falls.

'I didn't want to  _ scare  _ him,' he replies helplessly. 'I just wanted to be friends!'

Castiel sighs and leaves Jack on the floor, and goes to fetch his phone. He calls Kelly. It's not Jack's fault, but he still wishes he could just leave him in the store and go search for Dean. He waits until Kelly arrives, instead, because he's a responsible adult. He explains the situation briefly; he expects a falling out with Kelly, but the beta surprises him. She tells him to go after Dean and offers help, and immediately berates Jack. She promises she'll talk to him, and as soon as she's gone, Castiel closes the shop and drives home.

Dean's not there. He left his coat at the store, and it's raining, as always. Castiel thinks he might catch a cold, wherever he went; he might get lost if he ran to the woods, he might get run over by a car, he might get assaulted by a stranger. He tells himself to get a grip and checks the house, thoroughly, looking in all Dean's favourite hiding spots, but he's gone.

Castiel gets back in the car, and drives around town. Once, he thinks he sees Dean's hunched silhouette on the bench in the city center, but no, it turns out to be someone else. Feeling hopeless, Castiel drives out into the woods, and then up the hill, among the cornfields. Dean could be anywhere, it's pointless.

After a while, he drives back home. He could call the tracking company, but he worries there might be repercussions, like someone assuming he doesn't take good enough care of Dean. He resolves to wait until evening, and call as it gets dark.

He sits on a chair in front of the open door, wrapped in blankets. It's cold, but so is Dean, somewhere out there. Castiel can't forgive himself for letting his guard down; Dean, his abused omega he vowed to protect, and Castiel just left him with Jack, knowing how unpredictable Jack can be.

Dusk falls over Maudeck, slowly and persistently. Castiel keeps looking at the road. It's monotonous, and he grows tired after four hours of sitting in the same spot. Just as he decides to get up and call the company, he blinks and Dean's right there, standing before him, fidgeting in place. He's soaked, water dripping down his face and from his drenched clothes, and his teeth are chattering. He comes up the stairs, looking sheepish and scared, as if he's waiting for Castiel to tell him to get out.

Instead, with a cry of relief, Castiel grabs him and pulls him into a hug.

'I was so  _ worried  _ about you!' he tells Dean, who startles and doesn't return the hug, his hands hanging by his sides. When Castiel pulls back, Dean just looks confused. 'Where were you?'

Dean gestures outside. Castiel rolls his eyes.

'Yes, I know you were  _ outside _ . Are you okay?'

Dean drops his eyes, and holds out his hand. His knuckles are bruised from hitting Jack.

'We'll put some ice on that,' Castiel says, and Dean's face twists, he's outraged; he snatches back his hand and huffs, angry. He mimics a punch. 'Yes, I know you hit Jack. You’re safe, he won’t call the police, and there will be no punishment for you, not for something like this.’ He watches Dean, the tiny change in his expression; relief. ‘Jack means well, but if you ask me, he had it coming.' the omega stares at him, frustration and disbelief still warring on his face. 'He didn't have any right to touch you or force you to follow him. I am your alpha, Dean. Only I get to do that, and I won't, not without your consent.'

Dean keeps staring, but he looks pitiful, and Castiel doesn't have time for a long talk. The omega could be sick already, it doesn't help to stand in the draft, all wet.

'Come on,' the alpha says, and closes the door, cutting off the cold air. He leads Dean to the bathroom, even though the omega stays a few steps behind. He turns on the shower and makes it scorchingly hot, and turns to strip Dean off his clothes, peeling off the soaked layers and dropping them to the floor. Dean doesn't protest, even though he seems to be uncomfortable naked. He quickly gets under the spray and sighs as the warm water cascades down his back.

'Never run away again,' Castiel tells him, watching as his shaking subsides, watching the ugly scars covering the omega's back. They look like they came from a whip. 'I was so worried about you.'

'I'm fine,' Dean says, voice scraped raw and hitching.

'Well  _ I'm  _ not,' Castiel replies instinctively, and then stops and stares. The shock hits him with a delay and when it does, his heart almost leaps out of his chest. 'Dean, you're talking!'

The omega turns under the spray to face him.

'Yeah,' he shrugs, like it's nothing, like Castiel didn't spend endless nights dreaming of this moment, of finally being able to properly understand his omega. 'Cas, I'm sorry-'

Castiel steps under the spray, still clothed, and presses Dean up against the tiled wall, and kisses him hungrily. Dean makes a noise of surprise but he gives into it, enthusiastically. Castiel burrows his hands in Dean's hair, touching, tugging, and when he pulls back for air, Dean kisses him back, wraps an arm around him and grinds against him.

Castiel remembers himself. His face is flushed, he's hard, and all of that just because he heard Dean's low, gravelly voice for the first time.

'I'm sorry,' he says, stepping back. God, what is he doing? Water soaks him along with shame, his pants and shirt sticking to his skin, his socks - his socks, disgusting - and he probably scarred Dean for life.

'No,' Dean protests, surprising him, and it's short and definite. He pulls Castiel closer by his arm, and kisses him again, like he's starving for it. It's desperate and relieved at once, and so Castiel gives in.

The rest is a fumble, trying to get out of the shower, out of Castiel's wet clothes; landing on the king bed and making out. Castiel grabs Dean and holds him close on top of himself, his hands roaming everywhere, down Dean's back, squeezing his buttocks, thumb stretching his slicked hole. Dean bites his lip so hard that he draws blood, and Castiel  _ loves  _ it.

He flips Dean onto his back and towers over him. Dean's so wet, there's no need for prep. Still, Castiel hesitates for just a second, stroking his cock. Dean's staring at it greedily, eyes wide and lust-blown.

'Yes?' Castiel pants, and Dean spreads his legs and nudges him with his heels, not gently at all.

'Come on, Cas,' he whines, his hands grasping Castiel's hair, pulling him in for another clumsy kiss. So Castiel enters him in one swift move, and Dean howls at the feeling and instantly pushes back, working up a rhythm. He's squeezing Castiel like he's been born to do it, tight and hot and  _ wonderful _ , and Castiel fucks into him brutally, sucking bruises into his neck and biting his shoulder. Dean moans so obscenely, the neighbors will hear them, and Castiel only wants him to moan louder, to beg for his knot.

He puts his hand on Dean's chest, holding him in place, and pulls out slowly. The omega opens his eyes and stares at him, outraged.

'What the fuck?' he rasps, his voice breaking. Who knew his omega would be so impolite?

'Ask me,' Castiel growls.

'Come on,' Dean gasps, angry and turned on. Castiel slaps Dean's ass,  _ hard _ , and watches, satisfied, as Dean bucks into the touch, his breath stuttering.

'Ask me  _ nicely _ ,' Castiel insists, resting the tip of his cock at Dean's entrance, holding Dean back when he attempts to push back onto it. It's torture, but the delicious kind. Castiel's entire body strains, tingling with pleasure, his cock pulses, but he still waits. Dean's livid, his cheeks are dark red. Dean loves it, Dean's on fire.

_ 'Please _ ,' Dean says through gritted teeth.

'Please what?' Castiel taunts, pushing in just a bit. It was a mistake. Dean growls - an omega,  _ growls  _ \- and sits up, and grabs Castiel and slams their hips together, effectively sinking down on Castiel's cock.

He didn't expect that, but it's the opposite of disappointment. Dean's feral and aggressive and demanding, and it turns Castiel on like nothing else. He fucks Dean without stopping, now, and soon comes into his mate, his knot expanding and locking inside Dean. They both moan at the feeling, and Castiel reaches between their bodies to stroke Dean's small cock, hard and wet with precome. Dean startles, surprised, but he eagerly gives into it, snapping his hips forward as much as he can to slide through Castiel's tight fist. Castiel lets him, because it pulls on his knot in a way that makes his toes curl and his stomach burn, the right kind of pain.

Dean comes, and the sound he makes - Castiel's dick starts inside him when he hears it. He's beautiful, mouth wide open, eyes closed, head back - Castiel thrusts up and noses along his shoulder, and bites. Instantly, he feels his entire body vibrate. He just mated Dean, and he knows it was the best choice he's ever made.

Dean opens his eyes and slumps in his arms. He raises his hand and traces the bite with his fingers, hissing as he touches it. It must be sore and bleeding, but Castiel takes his fingers into his mouth and sucks, the coppery taste dissolving on his tongue. Dean stares, entranced, his gaze heavy and full of lust.

'Fucking  _ finally _ ,' he says, and Castiel laughs.

  
  
  
  


When the knot goes down and Castiel slips out of him, Dean attempts to go back to his bedroom. A dissatisfied growl rips from Castiel's throat, but again, the omega isn't intimidated.

'Chill,' he says. His voice is getting stronger, but it's still so hoarse. 'Just settin' up the bookclub.'

He returns to bed with their current book, and it makes something tender explode in Castiel's chest. The omega's no longer wary of his nudity, and, apparently, of his language. It's odd to discover that Dean uses so much slang and sarcasm and curses, but somehow, it fits him.

Dean plasters himself to Castiel's front, and sighs.

'What made you start speaking?' Castiel asks, kissing Dean's shoulder idly.

'I tried-' Dean replies after a moment, and clears this throat. 'Tried in the woods. No signal there. Thought maybe - the collar,' he clears his throat, again. 'Thought it wouldn't shock me there.'

'Shock you?' Castiel repeats, recoiling from it. 'Is that what happened in the past when you talked?'

Dean nods.

'It's not happening here, ever,' Castiel promises. Dean's tense for a while.

'Yeah, I know,' he says, finally, exhaling. 'You're a good guy, Cas. Thanks.'

'A good guy, huh?' Castiel teases, throwing a leg over Dean. 'Is that what you like about me?'

'That, and your big cock,' Dean deadpans, craning his neck to look at him. 'I'm serious, though.'

'I'm so happy you started talking,' Castiel says, ignoring the warmth spreading through him. He doesn't believe he's good, and he doesn't want to acknowledge it; him taking care of Dean has been disastrous at times. But it's still nice to hear. 'I'm not very good at guessing what you mean.'

'Nah, it's me,' Dean replies. 'Not good at charades.’

'I think we managed, though,' Castiel says. 'I am so happy to have you as my mate.'

Dean's expression softens, and he lies back down.

'Yeah,' he replies, and clears his throat, sounding choked. 'You gonna read or not?'

  
  
  
  


The next morning, Castiel wakes up to something tickling his nose. It's Dean's hair, he realizes, and he's trapping the omega - his  _ mate  _ \- in a tight embrace. He smiles to himself. He feels better than  _ ever. _

They eat breakfast together, and Dean's quiet like before, but he seems relaxed and happy. He keeps sending Castiel smiles and then, sits at the table and puts a hand on his thigh without hesitation.

'I wanted our first time to be slow and gentle,' Castiel reveals. His knee is killing him.

Dean snorts.

'Overrated,' he croaks, and pours them coffee. Then, he sits on Castiel's lap and they make out lazily until the coffee gets cold.

It turns out that Dean's very clingy. He constantly reaches out to grab Castiel's hand, tries to sit so close they touch, steals kisses whenever he can. It's so casual, too, Castiel loves it, like Dean walking by his desk on his way to the shelves and leaving a kiss on his cheek. People at the bookstore notice something changed. Charlie punches Castiel's arm and tells him it was about time, and Benny sends a cake with "Congrats on the mating!" written on top in blue frosting. Castiel blushes when he sees it, but Dean just smiles and scoops up the frosting with his fingers and sucks it into his mouth. After that, they have to close the bookstore for an emergency break in the middle of the day, and Castiel takes Dean over the table in the back room, next to the minifridge.

Dean acts like someone lifted a huge weight off his shoulders. Castiel supposes it's because they're finally mated, and Dean's sure of his position in this arrangement. He finally feels like he's wanted. It's Castiel's fault that he wasn't able to convince him before, without sex, even though sex is a nice addition. A very nice addition, he thinks, feeling Dean's lips brush his neck, his hands rest on his chest, thumbs circle his nipples. He's going to have to air out the place later on, he tries to remember. Castiel would be so embarrassed if anyone found out what the emergency break was really about.

The sad reality creeps back in when they find themselves tied on the harsh surface of the table.

‘Hand hurts,’ Dean admits, swallowing hard and tucking his hand under his armpit to stop it from shaking. Castiel kisses him, and picks him up. Dean’s still skinny enough to be light, but his stomach is soft, now, and he stopped using the drawstrings for his pants. Must be all the pies.

Castiel carries him to the main room. It feels blasphemous to be there with his naked mate literally sitting on his knot. The silence is overwhelming and Castiel feels as though the shelves are judging him quietly. 

‘Should do it on your desk sometime,’ Dean says, and Castiel’s cheeks flush a darker shade. The omega is smiling. 

‘You’re very forward,’ Castiel mumbles. Dean chuckles.

‘Sure, Mr. Ask Me Nicely,’ he quips, and Castiel thinks he’s going to burn alive. 

‘It was in the heat of a moment!’ he protests, and finally finds the small box of pills he came here for.

‘I like it,’ Dean announces, his voice quieter, and then comes a hesitant admission. ‘Cas, I- there’s been alphas, before.’

Castiel cuddles him closer to his chest, and heads to the back room.

‘I know,’ he says, something heavy in his throat. He sits down on the chair, with Dean in his lap.

‘You-’ Dean hesitates, as Castiel puts a glass of water in his hand. He takes the pill and swallows it. ‘You’re different.’

‘I’m trying to be,’ Castiel chuckles dejectedly. Dean hums, and goes silent for a moment. He looks at his hand, at the fingers shaking against his will.

‘You don’t mind - you d-on’t mind?’ he asks, finally, his voice cracking. He doesn’t look at Castiel, he stares ahead. Castiel’s had enough experience with Dean - with what goes unspoken rather than said - that he knows what he means. He doesn’t mind the scars, the missing ear, the shaking hands; the hiding and the muteness, the rude words spilling out of Dean’s mouth when he does talk, his sharp teeth when he bites and leaves marks on Castiel, the way he’s not meek and submissive unless it’s out of fear.

‘I like you just the way you are,’ Castiel replies, and kisses Dean’s temple. ‘Why?’

Dean breathes into his neck for a while, and Castiel can swear that his breath stutters, that he’s moved. 

‘I - I don’t know,’ he says. ‘When we fuck, I’m rude. Alphas - alphas usually like when omegas just lie still looking pretty.’

Castiel frowns, legitimately confused. He knows some alphas require extreme obedience and a slave-like mentality, but still, that’s not - that’s not what mating should be all about. He’s truly struggling to imagine having such a mindset. Enjoying having a partner who’s driven by forced docility and fear. 

‘Where’s pleasure in that?’ he asks.

Dean just pulls back to look at him, emotions swirling in his eyes, and runs a thumb across his cheek with impossible tenderness.

‘There isn’t,’ he replies, eyes hollow, and doesn’t speak for the rest of the day.

  
  
  
  


The next day he wakes Castiel up with breakfast. It’s the first time he’s left the bed on his own. 

‘I wanted to ask,’ he says, and grimaces like his throat hurts. ‘About the kid. He alright?’

It’s been a couple of days since the incident, and Jack still hasn’t shown up to the bookstore.

‘He had a bruise,’ Castiel tells Dean, taking a sandwich from the plate Dean brought to his bedroom. ‘But mostly, he was upset. He doesn’t see the world the way we do, and he just wanted to be friends.’

‘He-’ Dean starts, and his hand travels to the nape of his neck. ‘I - it’s - I just panicked,’ he gives up, his hand landing on the bed with a thud. 

‘That’s not true,’ Castiel frowns. ‘I know he touched your neck. No one’s supposed to do that.’

Dean nods, quickly. 

‘I don’t like it,’ he says, and looks away. The silence that settles over them is heavy, and so is Dean’s gaze when he finally looks back. Castiel tries not to think of what memories might be going through Dean’s head.

‘I think he’ll come over to apologize, at some point. He’s a good person, but I will not tolerate him touching you again,’ he tells him with confidence, and Dean seems surprised to hear it. But he doesn’t comment, and later, he seems on edge at the store, like he’s waiting for Jack and an argument that might follow. As per usual when something’s troubling him, he doesn’t talk. It doesn’t really disappoint Castiel, because he knows that if he insists, he’ll get some sort of response anyway. 

Dean still hasn’t uttered a word to anyone but him, but that changes one rainy Wednesday afternoon, when Muriel comes over with her usual pie - 

_ We can’t keep up with the amount of pies you bring us, Muriel,  _ Castiel tells her. 

_ Oh, but Deanie loves them _ , Muriel replies, ignoring him, looking over his shoulder.  _ Where’s that sweet boy? I got him something more, this time. _

\- and a pair of tightly-knit gloves. 

‘Here, sweetie,’ she says, holding out her hand to grab Dean’s. ‘Give me your hand.’

Dean’s stiff and unsure for a good minute next to Castiel, but eventually, he gives in. Muriel slides the glove over his right hand, and it fits perfectly. 

‘These are for you,’ she announces. ‘I’ve read warmth helps with hand injuries. It’s getting cold, but you can wear them inside, too, so it doesn’t get worse.’

Dean slowly flexes his fingers in the dark blue glove. Something crosses his face, and Castiel’s heart always constricts painfully whenever he sees it. The closest he can get to naming it is bewildered disbelief.

‘Thanks,’ Dean says, voice hoarse, and turns around and disappears in the back room, leaving Muriel shocked and delighted. 

  
  


In the evening, Dean wants Castiel to read them  _ The Count of Monte Cristo _ . There’s a full-blown storm outside, and Castiel’s grateful to have their little house with its insulation and the peace it provides. They sit in the kitchen, listening to the music from the radio, Dean kicked back in the chair with his feet on the table and Castiel frowning over his laptop, going through the descriptions of the newest books on the market. 

‘Why won’t  _ you  _ read it to us, for a change?’ he asks, and Dean’s feet disappear from the table. He sits up straight, and purses his lips.

‘No,’ he says. Castiel frowns harder, and puts his laptop away.

‘Why?’ he asks, because it doesn’t seem like it’s about Dean’s usual reluctance to speak. The omega looks extremely conflicted, and after a while of tense silence, he blurts out, challenging:

‘I can’t read.’

Castiel blinks, and Dean glares back. He’s scared.

‘What,’ Castiel asks, or says, weakly. ‘What - what do you mean you can’t read?’

‘I mean I  _ can’t _ ,’ Dean barks, leaning forward like he’s about to bolt. He reminds Castiel of a cornered animal, lashing out in fear.

‘But-’ Castiel searches for words, fruitlessly. ‘We’re at the bookstore everyday. I’ve  _ seen  _ you read books!’

‘You’ve seen me pretend,’ Dean snarls, getting up abruptly. ‘I just look at the pictures.’

Feeling that this will soon spiral out of his control and leave Dean hurt and him without answers, Castiel cocks his head and asks:

‘Do you like looking at the pictures?’

Thank God, it’s the right thing to ask, because it throws Dean completely off his kilter. He blinks, opens his mouth, rethinks it, closes it, and opens it again.

‘What?’ he settles on that, finally.

‘Do you enjoy it?’ Castiel asks. ‘I’ve given you quite a lot of books. I’d hate to think you were feeling forced to read them. Or pretend to, anyway.’

Dean’s anger evaporates, and his shoulders slump. He’s quiet for a moment, again. That’s fine. Castiel’s used to the long pauses, and to the existence of whatever Dean needs to process to get through them. He has time.

‘I liked the one with Long John Silver,’ he says, eventually. ‘There’s a song - uh. There’s a song, so I knew of him.’

‘A song? By who?’ Castiel asks, pointing to the chair, calmly. Dean sits back down.

‘Jethro Tull,’ Dean replies, his eyes on the table. Long John Silver is from  _ Treasure Island _ , a book Castiel’s read  _ to  _ him, though, so it hardly counts. But Dean continues. ‘I liked the pics there, and I like the albums you gave me at the store. The ones with the photos from around the world, and the ones with cars.’

Castiel remembers that most of the books Dean’s been reading had pictures or illustrations. Like the graphic novels. 

‘I’ve not just been pretending,’ Dean admits, hugging himself. ‘I’ve - uh. I’ve been tryin’ to - learn.’

‘We can learn together,’ Castiel tells him warmly, leaning across the table. ‘I would be happy to teach you.’

‘I don’t-’ Dean starts, looking painfully vulnerable, and then huffs. He reaches out to grab his notebook with recipes. So what was he doing, if not writing them down? Perhaps he drew them?

Dean opens the notebook and shoves it towards Castiel, like it’s his fault that they’re here and that he can’t read. He sulks in his seat, but really, Castiel can tell he’s terrified.

The notebook is filled with words. MILK, printed carefully, the letters wobbly and odd. It goes on for at least five pages, milk milk milk with a pause for a single JUICE.

‘It was too hard,’ Dean says, nodding towards it. ‘Juice. Don’t make any sense when I say it.’

Castiel nods, feeling his mouth twist. Later, there is CORN, and BEANS. In the very corner, Castiel can see a small, smudged DEAN, and under it, another version, DEEN. He can’t comprehend that the omega sitting across from him doesn’t even know how to write his own name.

On the next page, there’s JAM and TOMATO SOUP. The words get longer and more difficult; CHAMOMILE TEA, INSTANT COFFEE and PEANUT BUTTER. Castiel realizes his eyes are tearing up, especially when he sees the next page. SORRY WE’RE CLOSED, the longest sequence yet, a full sentence. He remembers Dean finding a bunch of SORRY WE’RE CLOSED signs in the back, and asking about them. Castiel told him he ordered too many on sale online, and he’d use them in the future. Dean must’ve remembered what it read when Castiel told him, and copied it to his notebook. Later, Dean picked it apart, and there’s a whole page of SORRYs. 

‘Is that how you wrote me the note?’ he asks, and Dean nods wearily.

‘Wanted to know how, in case I’d need it,’ he looks away. There’s more words, seemingly unrelated, at first - Castiel can recognize the phrases from the books. Some of them have mistakes and some are crossed, and some were clearly abandoned halfway through. But from time to time, Dean seems to catch something important, and he rewrites it many times on the pages, for practice. It makes Castiel’s blood freeze. There’s a whole row of MAD, and then, NOT in front of it, and after a while, NOT MAD PLEASE. Dean notices what he’s reading and he leans forward to snatch the notebook from his hands but Castiel pulls it back.

‘No,’ he says, determined to see everything that his omega has been trying to tell him, has wanted to tell him, at some point, or thought he would have to tell him, even as it fills him with horror.

‘Seriously, Cas,’ Dean tries to threaten him, but it comes out desperate. ‘I just didn’t know how to write don’t be. I kept trying, there’s nothing more there.’

I BE GOOD, is another one that’s practiced for a really long time. And then, YOU OK? The question mark is weird, shaky and slanted. DON’T BE MAD PLEASE, in its full glory, on the next page. How nice to know that Dean learned how to write it properly, how convenient, Castiel thinks, something bitter crawling up his throat, his eyes burning. And then, small, BE WITH ME? There’s a lot of it, and it’s most recent, Castiel thinks. His heart hurts when he thinks of Dean, leaning over the kitchen counter as the music plays from the radio and writing DON’T BE MAD PLEASE a thousand times. Copying the bright letters from the containers and boxes of food. Struggling to write SORRY on a piece of paper when Castiel was lying in the upstairs bathroom, choking on pain, and Dean’s hand burned and throbbed and there was no one to comfort him.

Something must show on his face, because Dean grabs the notebook and rips it from Castiel’s hands. He’s furious, and hurt, and panicked. There’s a pink flush on his cheeks, and his eyes shine with unshed tears. ‘I told you not to read it! I - I told you and - you  _ didn’t listen _ .’ 

Castiel opens his mouth to reply but he sobs instead, and finds that he can’t stop. He wipes his face, but the tears don’t stop coming, and Dean stands up from the chair, now  _ only  _ panicked.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and even through his tears, Castiel can see that he’s shaking. ‘I’ll learn, alpha, I swear. Don’t return me.’

It only makes Castiel sob harder. He doesn’t know why he’s crying. He didn’t cry when Dean asked him whether he was dead, he didn’t cry when Dean almost killed himself jumping out of the window because he was that scared, or when he spent the whole night writing  _ sorrys  _ and thinking someone was still going to cut his limb off.

Castiel hears Dean put the notebook back on the table, gently, and then turn on his heels and bolt from the room. He hears the upstairs bedroom door slam. But he can’t stop crying, and he knows it’ll end, he knows it’s stupid, but he also knows he has to let it pass on its own.

He’s just so hurt for Dean. He’s so hurt he’s not sure he could put it into words. All those months when he thought they were getting along, when he thought Dean was healing, the omega was actually writing his last resort notes any chance he got. Castiel’s not sure what’s worse; the hundreds of DON’T BE MAD PLEASE or the tiny, fragile BE WITH MEs. He feels like he’s failed Dean. Things are better since he started speaking, yes; but this, all of it, Castiel had no idea about. And he handled it horribly.

When his pity session finally comes to an end, he makes them both some tea and carries the mugs upstairs. The wind howls behind the windows, and the fence rattles loudly. Even the lanterns flicker from time to time. It’s a miserable time to be alone.

Castiel knocks on Dean’s door, but there’s no reply. He tries the doorknob, to no avail. The door is… blocked. There’s no lock on it, so it has to be. 

It’s eerily quiet inside, but Castiel can tell from the temperature alone that the window wasn’t opened, so Dean didn’t escape outside. If he tried, Castiel would probably hear the crash, anyway. It’s way too high and the omega could break his arms and legs from the fall.

'Please come out,’ he pleads. ‘Everything’s fine. I just want to talk.’

He’s met with silence.

‘Dean,’ he tries again. ‘I’m not angry, and I’m not returning you. I’m sorry I read your private notes. Please open the door.’

After he gets no reaction, Castiel sighs, and puts the mugs down on the nightstand. He finds a piece of paper and writes. NOT MAD, and then under it, BE WITH ME? He folds the paper and slides it through the gap under the door.

‘I’ve left you a note,’ he announces, and then goes to sit on his bed. The door doesn’t open, and there’s no sound from inside of the room.

Hours pass. Castiel drinks both their teas, and tries to finish his work, but he can’t focus. The door between them feels like much more of a barrier than just some wood. He’s so worried, but sometimes, leaving Dean alone is the best thing he can do. 

Finally, when he dozes off on the bed, there’s a sound of heavy furniture being pushed aside. Must be the drawer. He sits up on the bed, alert, when the door opens, revealing an empty faced Dean, in the middle of his nest. 

He doesn’t say anything, just peers at Castiel. So Castiel gets up and crosses over to his room. He lies down next to the omega, and pulls him flush against his chest. Dean lets himself be cuddled, begrudgingly. He holds up the piece of paper, and the alpha can see his own writing underneath.

TEECH ME? 

Castiel smiles and takes the pen from him, and writes a big A in place of the second E. He hands it back to Dean who stares at it sullenly, and pulls him in for a kiss. They lie in bed for a long time, Dean’s face in Castiel’s neck.

Suddenly, lightning crashes, like a blindingly white rip in the dark sky. The sound makes Dean scramble and hide in Castiel’s body. He breathes harshly, and he’s broken out of his daze.

‘Sorry I lied,’ he says, or pants. ‘Sorry I - sorry I - I can’t read. I shouldn’t lie,’ his hand travels to the scar on his neck, unconsciously.

‘You never said you could read, so it’s not really a lie, is it?’ Castiel asks, rubbing his back. ‘Why did you think it would bother me?’

‘You sell  _ books _ ,’ Dean points out, like Castiel’s stupid. His heart is still jackrabbiting in his chest, Castiel can feel it. He keeps glancing at the sky, waiting for more lightning bolts. ‘I can’t work with you if I can’t read.’

‘You’re doing well so far,’ Castiel tells him. ‘Wait, is that why you taste everything so much when you cook?’

‘Reading proportions ain’t easy when you can’t read,’ Dean replies. There’s another flash, and a roar that they feel in their bones. The house shakes, and so does Dean.

‘How come you can’t read, though?’ Castiel wonders. ‘You had a family, haven’t you? They haven’t taught you?’

‘I don’t wanna talk about it,’ Dean cuts him off. End of discussion. Alright.

Castiel gets up, leaving Dean confused on the bed, another  _ sorry  _ already in his eyes and on his lips, so he hurries to explain. ‘I’ll get Monte Cristo, and  _ you  _ will read to me.’

Dean looks upset and shy, but when Castiel settles back in the nest, he throws Castiel’s arm around his shoulders and takes the book. 

‘There’s pictures, too,’ Castiel says, and kisses Dean’s temple. He loves lying so close to him. Dean hums, and tugs a blanket around his waist. They reach chapter one, and Dean swears.

‘Holy fuck.’

‘That’s Marseilles. It’s a French city,’ Castiel explains. ‘Let’s start with the next word. Do you know the first letter?’

‘I know how to write THE, Cas,’ Dean rolls his eyes, but Castiel can tell he’s not-so-secretly bragging. He kisses him again. 

‘Of course,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry for underestimating you.’

Dean returns the kiss, eagerly.

‘You’re forgiven,’ he replies, with a hint of his cocky smile, the one that Castiel loves so much. They don’t get more reading done that night, and the book lands on the floor, forgotten. Castiel makes love to Dean the way he always wanted; slow, steady, tender. He can’t get enough. In no time, Dean’s moans are louder than thunder, and his eyes shine brighter than lightning. I hope this never ends, Castiel thinks, I hope this lasts  _ forever _ .

Nearing the end of November, it gets really cold. There’s a mountain of blankets in the back room of the bookstore, now, next to the table, because for some reason Dean likes to sit on the floor. Castiel printed him the alphabet with large, clear letters. Dean consults his notebook a lot, and tries to read. He glowers when Castiel offers him some children books to practice on, so they find a middle ground and go through  _ Slime Lake  _ together, page by page. 

Jack comes by the bookstore and apologizes. Castiel’s surprised to feel a surge of protectiveness and he automatically puts himself slightly in front of Dean, as if to cover him in case of an attack. Dean seems to sense it, because he uncurls a little behind Castiel’s back, like he’s responding to something unspoken. 

Jack’s very sorry, and Dean forgives him with a nod, but he stays wary. To Castiel’s relief, Jack doesn’t immediately try to show Dean his beloved comics, but asks if he can come back the next day. Things go back to normal; he sits on his bean bag and reads and doesn’t bother the omega.

Some days, Dean wakes up and doesn’t talk. Some days, he still hides, like nothing’s changed. Charlie comes over and invites them to a party on one of the extremely rare dry days, and shockingly, Dean kind of looks like he wants to come. He changes his mind the minute they’re in the door, dressed and ready to go, and lets Castiel know with a series of huffs that he’s not going to leave. Castiel lets  _ him  _ know with a couple of reassuring sentences that it’ll be good for both of them and Dean will be safe and it’s going to be fun. Eventually, Dean caves, but Castiel suspects it’s only because he bribes him with kisses.

The party is a success. There’s a huge fire in the backyard of Charlie’s house, and they roast marshmallows and sausages. Dean looks terrified at the amount of people, but everyone’s friendly, and though he sticks to Castiel’s side like glue, he relaxes slowly. Charlie comes up with the perfect game - charades, so Dean feels included. He goes through the key words like a pro, gesturing quickly, and Castiel guesses what he means nearly effortlessly. They get the most points and Dean seems to glow, smiling widely at Castiel and Castiel only. It’s like they have their own secret language. They spend the evening cuddled on a log by the forest, warmed by the fire, drinking beer. Finally, Dean falls asleep on Castiel’s lap, arms and legs wrapped around him like an octopus, and Castiel scents him carefully, staring at the flames.

The first flakes of snow fall on the first of December. Dean drags Castiel from bed with such fervour, the alpha’s scared something happened. But no. Dean slaps the window excitedly, and then slaps Castiel’s arm for good measure.

‘Is it quiet day?’ Castiel asks, fighting to keep his eyes open, dreaming of going back to sleep. Dean huffs and nods. Castiel started calling the days Dean refuses to speak his quiet days, and Dean pretends to be grumpy but really, he loves it, Castiel can tell. Upon receiving the confirmation, he curls up on Dean’s bed under the big windowsill and goes back to sleep. Dean huffs again, and slaps his arm again, with a book this time.

‘Fuck off, it’s just snow,’ Castiel grumbles, pulling Dean’s blanket over his head. The blanket smells so much like Dean, he just ends up sniffing it. Dean pulls on the blanket, trying to uncover him, but it catches under his jaw and chokes him instead. Cloyed in Dean’s scent, Castiel thinks it’s not such a bad way to die. 

When it finally comes off, Dean clearly tries to speak. His throat works, and his mouth is open, but the words won’t come out. Castiel sighs, it’s always so painful to see. 

‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Show me.’

Dean points to the snow, and makes a huge sweeping gesture. 

‘There will definitely be enough for you to sweep,’ Castiel assures him, and lets his head hit the pillow again. ‘The weather here is terrible. That’s why I love this place.’

Dean cracks a smile, and goes back to looking out of the window. He climbs onto the windowsill and sits there, and holds out his hand. Castiel grabs it, and falls asleep.

  
  
  


On the fourteenth of December, there’s a snow storm in Maudeck, but Castiel and Dean still work at the bookstore, even though the school and the shops are closed. It gets dark very early and there’s so much snow, it comes up to the thighs on the sidewalk, and to the knees next to their house, situated higher than the store and most of the city. 

Dean loves snow. He loves throwing snowballs at Castiel and loves having snowballs thrown at him. He made a big snowman next to the store with an actual carrot for the nose, and the kids started taking selfies with it. One day, Dean begs Castiel to slide down the hill with him, and they do, sledding down the hill on old wooden crates Castiel got from a neighbour’s shop. Dean laughs, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes shining under the edge of the warm hat Castiel bought him. Carefree, or maybe just free.

Now, they're about to close up. Only two people visited the store, but Dean plugged in an old radio he found in the back, and made them both hot coffee with whipped cream. It's been a slow, wonderful day. Around five, Castiel’s phone dies during a conversation with his mother, and he and Dean spend the last hour reading one of the new books that came to the store.

When Dean finishes a particularly long word - ostentatious - the lights flicker and die. The cheery Christmas song from the radio abruptly cuts off, and they're left in the dark to hear the violent whistling of the wind. It's fast and makes Castiel feel uneasy. 

He gets up and packs his bag, and he and Dean dress up to leave. They drove to the store, to avoid a trek in the snow, and Castiel’s grateful for it. Except, when he tries the door, it won't open. 

He looks through the glass. There's  _ a lot _ of snow on the street, it comes up to his hips and effectively blocks the door. 

Dean helps him push; they strain, but it's not enough. The back door is in the same state, and Castiel has to face the fact that they're snowed in. 

The big stained glass windows don't open, only the window in the backroom, which is too small for either of them to get through. Castiel’s not really worried until he realizes that he doesn’t have his charger. They have no way of contacting the outside world.

He goes back to the main room, and sees Dean standing in front of it, arms wrapped around his middle. It's been a while since he looked so helpless. 

'I think we'll have to stay the night,' Castiel says, smiling without humor. 'We're stuck here, and my phone is dead.' 

Dean glances around and nods, like he expected that. 

'Not all is lost,' Castiel tells him. His favorite place on Earth quickly turned unfamiliar and claustrophobic in the dark. ‘I still have the candles I got for Halloween.’

‘And,’ Dean says, the first thing he’s said today, his voice croaky. ‘The - the pumpkin.’

‘We are  _ not  _ putting the cackling pumpkin in here,’ Castiel protests. ‘Everything seems haunted enough in the dark.’

To his surprise, Dean laughs.

‘I’ll protect you,’ he says, and comes up to Castiel to grab his hand. The alpha smiles at him, and Dean smiles back, and Castiel kisses him, his lips warm and yielding. 

They go to the back and find a total of forty candles in the boxes. They have skulls at the base, and Castiel lights them with the matches included in the package. Dean sets them on the desk and on the floor, in a loose circle around the open space near the main desk, away from the shelves.

‘There’s still pie in the fridge,’ Dean says, and brings it to the main room. They sit on the floor, still in their coats, though Castiel’s not afraid of them freezing to death. There are Dean’s blankets in the back, and they can sleep on the reading couch or the bean bags. Still, the wind is howling outside, it’s clear that the storm is vicious. 

‘It feels like we’re the last people in the world,’ Castiel says, stretching out on the floor, looking at the flickering candles and the shadows they cast. Dean nods, mouth full of pie. 

‘Sure hope someone comes get us in the morning,’ he mumbles. ‘I miss-’

He cuts himself off abruptly, and Castiel frowns.

‘You miss what?’

Dean shrugs, but Castiel still stares, and finally, he gives in.

‘My nest,’ he murmurs, embarrassed. ‘Never had one before. Thanks for - you know.’

‘You’ve never had a nest before?’

‘I mean,’ Dean pauses to think. ‘At one of my alpha’s houses, I would make one with a hoodie, in the corner of the basement. But it wasn’t - it wasn’t like yours.’

‘Huh,’ Castiel says, voice weak. ‘You slept in the basement?’

Dean nods, staring at him. His eyes look soft in the candlelight.

‘I tried to count,’ he tells Castiel. ‘How many alphas I had. You asked me. But I don’t remember. I think it’s been like two alphas per year, maybe, so that’d be - what, thirty alphas?’

‘Thirty,’ Castiel repeats slowly. 

Dean nods, tense, but his eyes are far away, like most of the times when he’s hiding.

‘Yeah,’ he confirms, hollowly. Castiel takes in his hunched shoulders and the vacant look, and his hands folded atop of his crossed legs. It takes him three seconds to crawl across the floor to reach Dean, and pull him into an embrace. The omega goes willingly, and Castiel rests his chin on Dean’s soft hair, smelling of mint.

‘I’m the last,’ Castiel says.

‘What?’ Dean cranes his neck to glance at him.

‘I’m your last alpha,’ Castiel explains, dropping a quick kiss to Dean’s temple. ‘You’re mine forever, and I’ll never let you go.’

Dean smiles gently, and his eyes crinkle. 

‘Works for me,’ he replies, and grabs Castiel’s arms, cinching them around his waist. ‘What were you thinking about right before you steered off that road?’

Castiel startles, caught off guard by the question. It sounds sinister in the dark room, it sounds painfully private. He can still feel his body go numb and shaky whenever he recalls the accident. But Dean’s warm against him, the solid of his back, his head resting on Castiel’s chest, and he finds his courage.

‘I was thinking about what I need to buy at the store,’ he says, but that’s not right, not really. ‘And - a book I’ve been reading the day before,’ he adds, his throat feeling tight. ‘A book about lovers. I was thinking about how - I would like to have someone next to me in the passenger seat.’

‘Now you do,’ Dean replies, without missing a beat.

‘Yes,’ Castiel says, equally quickly. ‘How did you lose your ear?’

Now it’s Dean’s turn to tense, but he goes lax in his embrace just as suddenly.

‘I tried to run,’ he says. ‘Only got as far as the fence. Azazel, he - he knew I’d run. He left the gate open but I still had to try. I’ve been on time-out for a really long time, and I just - I had to get out. He sicced his dogs on me and I - they -’

His trembling hand comes up to his ear, and he touches it gingerly.

‘Thought they took it all off,’ he says, and chuckles, and it’s a short, grating sound, almost inhuman. ‘There was so much blood, I thought they - I begged him to make it stop, but he said I needed to learn my lesson. Later he made me look as they - as they chewed. I never ran again, until - until recently.’

Oh. 

Castiel can’t help feeling murderous, and tightening his hold on Dean. He wonders if Dean thought about Castiel punishing him when he escaped in panic after hitting Jack. Most likely. 

‘This - this is for lying,’ Dean says, absently, his fingertips skittering across the scar on his neck, on his cheek. ‘The alpha who did this to me, I never even knew his name. He said I’ll think of it every time I’ll look in the mirror.’

‘What did you lie about?’ Castiel asks, morbidly curious.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Dean replies, looking more present, but his hand traces his collar, unconsciously. He turns to flash Castiel a wry smile. ‘I’ll remember.’

Castiel sighs and holds Dean, hating how his eyes are tearing up. He wishes he could find everyone who hurt his omega; he’d rip their heads off. The violence courses through him, and he growls. Dean doesn’t get scared. He fully turns in Castiel’s embrace and kisses his neck, and his shoulder. It’s calming, somehow. 

‘I think I love you, Cas,’ he says, and Castiel’s heart stops. Dean’s not nervous. The confession is casual, and it’s certain; it’s something he knows to be true, and knows it will be true no matter how Castiel responds.

‘I think I love you too,’ he says, though, because he does. Dean nods, satisfied, like he expected that, and nuzzles Castiel’s shoulder. A particularly strong gust of wind hits the window, snowflakes flutter behind the red and blue glass. Dean lets out a soft, content sound. The library doesn’t seem haunted anymore.

They spend the night cuddling in the circle of light. Castiel changes the candles when they burn out. Around four am, with circles under his eyes, Dean looks through the books on the shelf, and finds something he clearly likes. Snickering, he comes over and shows Castiel. A book full of sexual positions.

‘How many pictures,’ Castiel deadpans. ‘Something just for you.’

‘Somethin’ just for _us_ ,’ Dean counters, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘I wanna try number 39.’

Castiel squints at it.

‘It would require me to be pretty flexible,’ he judges. ‘But I’m willing to try.’

He meets Dean’s eyes over the book. There’s a teasing spark in the omega’s eyes, his eyebrow raised, an infuriating curl of his mouth. Castiel can’t believe he ever felt cold. There might be a snow storm outside, but he’s burning up, he feels hot inside and out.

‘Can’t wait,’ Dean replies, and bends down to pick up a bean bag, slowly and suggestively. When he sees Castiel’s flushed face, he laughs, delighted. ‘Come on, alpha. Let’s put out the candles and sleep. I’m wiped.’

Castiel feels too aroused to fall asleep, but he lets Dean blow out the candles and arrange the bag as a big pillow in the middle of the room. He holds his mate and watches the sun rise, the rays slowly streaming through the stained glass window and falling on the floor, on the skull candles. It looks ridiculous, but he’s so comfortable here, in their little shelter from the storm, with Dean snoring against his chest.

He must doze off too, because when Charlie knocks on the glass door, he startles. Dean groans and goes back to sleep on the floor.

Castiel makes his way to the door and tries to open it. It works. Some of the snow has melted, and the rest was brushed away by Charlie, who greets him with red cheeks and gloves covered in snow.

‘Dude,’ she says. ‘Have you been-’

‘We got snowed in,’ Castiel sighs, and lets her in. ‘Come in, it’s cold.’

‘Duh,’ she replies, and walks inside. ‘The whole town lost power last night. I was passing by and saw your car was still in the driveway. I was so worried-’ she rounds the corner and sees Dean, sleeping on the floor, and the candles. She smiles. ‘But I guess you’re fine.’

Castiel follows her line of sight. Whenever he sees Dean, every single time he sees Dean, something unfurls in his chest, it fills him to the brim. ‘We’re perfect.’

  
  
  


The weekend before Christmas, they decide to take a trip to a town even bigger than Satbury, and buy decorations. Castiel wasn’t big on decorating the tree and stringing the house with lights, but Dean won’t have anything else. The alpha invited his mother and Gabriel, and it’ll be the first time they’ll meet his mate. He’s stupidly excited and proud to show him off. 

It’s a nice morning. The world is bright due to the snow, and some kids run past their house pulling snow sleds behind them. The road will be icy, but Castiel’s not scared; he’ll go slow, just the way Dean likes it, to watch everything they drive by. 

Dean prepares breakfast, swaying his hips to the music and humming. It’s a quiet day, but it doesn’t stop him from enjoying Jingle Bell Rock. The pancakes smell delicious, and Castiel leaves the novel he’s reading on the table and drinks in the scene in front of him. His omega, so confident in their house, the cozy kitchen, the seamless way they both fit in here, the way they communicate without words. Dean hands him the plate with the pancakes; there are berries on top. Castiel’s leg is pulsing with pain, but it doesn’t matter. Dean’s body is scarred forever, but it doesn’t matter either. This morning is theirs.

Dean tears out a page from his notebook and slides it across the table.  _ Love you _ .

Castiel smiles, feeling moved and sentimental. He raises his hand and pats his chest, and holds out two fingers.

Dean rolls his eyes with a grin on his face, and he gets up, and leans in for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, the sweet sweet fluff *eyeroll* i know. sometimes a girl just needs something nice.  
> i hope you enjoyed the trip to maudeck!!! also what a plot twist am i right. let me know if you liked it, what you liked, was it fun! <3


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